I Remember You
by M.D. Owen
Summary: The Hamato family has been integrated with society for years, and while it was never what they hoped it would be, they make the best of it. An alternate universe where normal can be extraordinary. *Note: This story is being revised and the final draft will be uploaded in the future. Enjoy the story's "early years" and a peek at things to come.*
1. Chapter 1 :: Hello, My Name is

_The winds of the worlds had changed. The four Hamato brothers and their father rat could join society as legislation and laws were passed for the Non-Humans to merge with the majority. Blood and tears had been shed for a few signatures and votes, and the end result called for celebration that reflected through the stars. The Non-Humans felt proud, confident in their sacrifices and triumphs, and the ambition of a radiant future was as close as the hearts beating in their chests. There were still many roads to travel and laws to sharpen, but the minority held fast and clung to their solid expectations._

_It was a slow progression and not all of the"Nons" had decided to join society. Some felt the comfort of their familiar surroundings was good enough and there wasn't a need to bleed into society, or just yet._

_Nons came from around the globe, greeting countries' landmarks that had welcomed new settlers in past generations. This was a glorious age for the minority but not all of society opened their minds and hearts to such a physically, abnormally challenged race._

_This is a story of that Age, one of the countless sagas of how families are intertwined and will find similarities in other groups..Battle changes feelings; war changes everything._

_

* * *

_

"Flight 3219 seems to be late," Leonardo Hamato mumbled, staring up at the screen and sipping on his fourth cup of water. "I hope it arrives soon."

"Airports make me nervous," a tense voice belonging to Donatello seeped from an opposite seat. "Just the whole idea of walking around in public hasn't sunk in for me yet." He wiped his wet palms on his trousers. "And clothes. They're itchy."

An announcement blared over the airport but nobody could understand it. Raphael rammed a toothpick between his back teeth and slurred, "Donny, we've been out in public for years now. You're actin' like we crawled out of the sewers yesterday. Go get you some water and stop wiggling."

Donatello left his seat without a retort, and Leo glanced over at the last brother, Michelangelo, who had remained quiet the entire time. He looked up once he felt Leo's eyes on him and smiled in response; Leo nodded and hoped Michelangelo would join in the conversation, like old times. When nothing was exchanged, Leo turned back to the flight screen.

"It's Splinter's guests arrivin'. Why can't he come in here?" Raph asked, tossing the toothpick into a nearby bin. "I don't know nothin' about Germans. Just that they talk funny and wear funny clothes."

Leo sighed, wanting to ignore Raph's constant protests. "Splinter doesn't like to walk around in public, dummy. This is the least you could do for him. Now YOU go get some water and be quiet."

As Raph rose from his seat he spewed, "And just because they're turtles like us doesn't mean I'm going to drop what I'm doing. It's no big deal anymore."

Another announcement bellowed around the airport's bustle. Raphael bumped into a fidgety Don, causing Don to spill a little water on himself.

"Good. Thirty more minutes," Leo breathed out, joining the silent Michelangelo on the seats.

The four brothers stood at the gate, peering back and forth for the new guests. They had a couple of pictures to go by and an idea of who they were looking for in the crowd. Don and Raph continued their bickering.

"Thanks for spilling water on me, Raph. This shirt cost me a good penny."

"You just complained that clothes make you itchy. Shop at the Goodwill, like me. Or get 'im out of the dumpster. You've done it before."

"My dumpster diving days are over. I have an income and I'm going to use it. I'm tired of smelling like a landfill."

Raph huffed, "I don't think I smell that bad, Donny. You just ain't no fun anymore. There's an art to dumpster diving."

Leo shushed them, and at the right moment Michelangelo pointed out their two guests.

"Look at that," Raph mumbled, elbowing Don, "The older one's got a wet spot on her shirt. Like you, Donny."

"Hallo!" rung a baritone, vivid voice from the crowd and a cream-colored hand signaled their arrival. An average height, stocky female turtle appeared in front of the Hamatos, bowing and grinning a mile wide. "I am Emyrs Becker from Bergedorf, Germany, and this is -" She stopped once she realized her traveling partner wasn't beside her. "Abigail? Where's my daughter?"

"Pretty accent," Don whispered; he had to throw in: "Think you can understand it, Raph?"

There was a groan rumbling deep in Raph's throat.

"ABIGAIL!" Emyrs screamed above the crowd, peering down in time to find her unamused daughter standing beside her. "Oh, didn't mean to scream in your ear. Sorry!"

Leo bowed and put on his best face. "It is nice to meet the both of you. I know that our father has been corresponding with you for a majority of the year. We hope that your flight over here was comfortable."

Emyrs' hazel eyes widened. "For the most part; I spilled some drink on me. Actually, Abby did when she didn't put her drink away before the plane descended."

"These are my brothers. On the far end is Donatello, this is Raphael, I'm Leonardo, and he's Michelangelo." Don and Mike nodded; Raph did a small salute.

"This is my twelve-year-old daughter, Abigail Becker." Abby greeted the brothers with a bow, her frizzy red hair bouncing with the rhythm. Emyrs clapped her hands together. "It's nice to meet you all as well. I am eager to meet with Splinter Hamato, but first let me wipe my shirt dry and use the ladies' room. My eyeballs are floating."

* * *

Leonardo and Michelangelo waited patiently for the Beckers to do their bathroom business; a hasty Raphael and Donatello had already left the building, trolling back to the van still nagging at one another.

Emyrs emerged from the restroom first, straightening her outfit and thanking Michelangelo for guarding her luggage. Leo studied the elder Becker: she was slightly shorter than the Hamato brothers, had cream-colored skin, and her shell was much smaller than theirs. She had some years on her face but her eyes and smile were very youthful.

"Do I have something on my face?" she blinked. He caught hold of himself staring at her before he chuckled in response.

"My apologies."

"ABBY!" Emyrs roared into the bathroom. "Did you fall in?"

The tween breezed around the corner and shook her head. "I held it in, too, Mother."

Leo thought he heard a giggle coming from Michelangelo, but he didn't want to bank on it. The Beckers carried their luggage through the airport, insisting that they were not helpless and didn't want to intrude. It was part of Leo's nature to study his surroundings, and he made sure not to stare into Abigail's face. Abby's appearance was very different from her mother's: light green skin, reminiscent of the Hamatos', frizzy red hair, and a tail that met midway down her legs. Her hazel eyes weren't as youthful as Emyrs; they held an almost mature look to them. However, their facial structures were similar: well-rounded beaks with Emyrs' slightly bonier due to her age.

"We're back, Sensei. Sorry for making you wait so long," Leo apologized as he stuffed the luggage into the van.

"I already told him, Leo. He was asleep when I got here anyways," Raph grumbled and made space for the Beckers. He was quickly getting uncomfortable once they shuffled inside. "Don, let me ride up front. You ain't got as much meat on your bones."

"Ouch!" Emyrs cried. "What's that jabbing me?"

"Oh, my bad." Raph unhooked his weapon and threw it on the floor. "Don! Did you hear me, deaf boy?"

Don had on his headphones and his music increased in volume.

"Hi, Splinter!" Emyrs reached over and tugged Splinter in the front seat. "It's nice to see you, 'MasterRobotRat'."

"Who?" Raph cawed and threw his seat mate a suspicious look.

"His internet handle, Raph," Leo grunted as he shuffled in the driver's seat and buckled his belt. "That's how they met. And stop kicking my seat."

Raphael turned to look out the window. "I don't study no internet."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you face to face, Porcupine-Cupcake," the elder rat's voice cracked from his grogginess and realization of their internet aliases.

Emyrs richly laughed and patted Splinter's shoulder, "You didn't send me an updated photo of your sons! I was expecting them to be naked, wearing bandannas, and surrounding you like bodyguards."

"Yes, sorry. I am not terribly wise with the computer and the internet." Splinter elbowed Donatello beside him. "My son here is the smart one with the computer."

"Thank you, Sensei."

Raph reached over and smacked Don on the back of the head. "I knew you could hear me! Ya damn static head!"

"Raphael! We have guests!" Leo chastised but kept his eyes on the road. "Act like your age and not your shoe size!"

The grumpy one snickered. "Hey, my shoe's almost old enough to vote! Besides, Donny needs a good slap on the back of the head sometimes. I'm going to sleep. Mike, hand me a pillow or somethin' from back there."

"My sons are never boring," Splinter warmly chuckled. "Your daughter's name is Abigail, and she is a half breed?"

Emyrs dodged the pillow being transferred between the brothers. "Yes, she is. Half turtle, half dragonoid. At the moment, she retains more of her turtle blood and features. She's not such a problem YET."

While her mother rubbed the top of Abby's fluffy head, Abby responded by looking out her window.

"She's a good kid. Strong and spirited. She's never traveled abroad before and I thought it would be a dynamic experience for her."

"New York ain't nothin'," grumbled Raph from the corner, trying to tuck himself in a comfortable position. "It's got a few cool little spots but it's mostly loud and smelly."

"Just like Raphael in the corner there," Don spoke and turned up his music.

"He doesn't smell too bad. You should smell some of the drunks in my bar," the elder turtle laughed. Her chuckles trailed off once she felt the fire from Raphael's eyes. "Well, when we reach our destination, I would like to discuss some business with you.. Do you all like sausages?"

* * *

The introductions happened two weeks ago. Since then, the two guests arranged to rent the basement of April O'Neil, a human companion to Splinter and his sons; Miss O'Neil was more than happy to take care of friends of the family and the extra payment helped too, giving the current shaky economy.

Emyrs arranged to have Abigail continue her martial arts training under Splinter's team while Emyrs enjoyed the scenery and the new-found people and land.

Other than a few hiccups in the daily activities, life was quiet for all, but the placid surface masked cracks of struggle slowly growing deep and wide, not affected by time or environment.

* * *

_Beta Reader: **TheMutantRebel**_


	2. Chapter 2 :: Laughter and Silence

"We've never had German guests before!" April cheeped. She leaned against the entrance to the basement with an inquisitive expression on her face, "I've been teaching myself the German language. It's a fascinating language."

"Yep, and I don't mind quizzing you sometime!" joked Emyrs as she folded clothes and placed them on the dresser.

April took a quick minute to get a good look at the turtle, a female, although other than a smaller frame and a slightly bigger eyes, one couldn't tell she was actually female. Emyrs was very light-skinned, a cream tone and had the biggest hazel eyes April had ever seen on... well, anything. For Emyrs' age (apparently "ancient" as April remembered Emyrs saying), she was a rather attractive lady; she held a straight posture, walking with confidence but shifted her eyes around a lot like she was taking in everything she could for a later time.

"Would you like for me to cook dinner tonight?" Emyrs' kind, alto voice chimed in April's thoughts, bringing the brunette back to the conversation. April enjoyed listening to Emyrs' crisp, warm German accent; Abigail had a softer, spongy tone. The Beckers' mentioned they speak English in their household often so most of their words weren't incredibly difficult for the Jones and Hamatos to understand.

April snapped her fingers. "Oh! Uhm, if you'd like. What did you have in mind? We might have to go to the store to pick up some things since it's been over a week now."

Emyrs scratched her head and stared off in the distance. "Some sort of meat, maybe a pot roast? With veggies on the side? You like that?"

April's curls bounced as she chuckled. "Yeah, that's acceptable. We enjoy potatoes on the side, too!"

"Are potatoes considered part of your vegetable side? We normally don't use them as such but I will oblige for the sake of my hostess!" Emyrs joined in the laughter and headed upstairs.

With April following behind her, Emyrs continued, "As soon as we leave, you all will think we're the nuttiest creatures you've ever seen! It's so fascinating to meet different cultures. I quite like visiting here so far."

Dishes clattering and spoons tinkering, the kitchen saw its quiet state disturbed for the sake of dinner. April merely reminded Emyrs where the cutlery and pots were located and they even found some misplaced dishware with Emyrs apologizing for her daughter who was probably in a hurry and placed them in the wrong area.

"No big deal, girl. I've found dishes everywhere in this apartment. Remember that I live with a man, and a man named Casey Jones at that."

"Men can be a hassle but they're good for something every once in a while, right?"

The two ladies exchanged sneering glances and knew what the other was thinking:

"Plumbing!"

"Lawn mowing!"

"I don't do plumbing!" April declared and moving out of the kitchen so Emyrs could begin dinner.

"Lawn mowing is a losing battle for me. I fight with the lawnmower like I'm married to it. Hell, I've already divorced it several times!" Emyrs joked. "May I look in your fridge for the materials I need?"

"Oh, sure!" April waved. "Casey enjoys the plumbing and besides his good looks, that's the only reason I'm with him!"

The ladies shared another round of laughter and continued chattering on about life, love, and the pursuit of Takeout after the hours waned on and Emyrs still had nothing to show for it.

"I really did want to cook dinner!" Emyrs looked at the counter full of pots, pans, and dishes.

"There's always tomorrow! You can cook breakfast? I suck at it," said April, grabbing up dishes and putting them away. "Casey goes to work real early, though, so what time did you want to start?"

Emyrs didn't respond for a good minute, prompting April to turn around. "You okay?"

"Oh, um..." the elder turtle began, "Yeah! Um, what time does he have to be at work then?"

April stared at her, wondering what had just happened but answered quickly as soon as she realized Emyrs looked back at her, "Six! Six am, he stumbles around."

"I'll get started twenty til then," Emyrs finished her sentence slowly, trailing off her train of thought. "Sorry for the awkwardness just now. I, um... had a brain freeze as you could probably tell." She tried to laugh it off and helped with clearing away the kitchen.

"Oh, I did it all the time. Just go rest up. I'll keep some dishes out for you so you can get started when you come up in the morning."

"Thanks. Guten nacht!" Emyrs pointed a finger up to quiz April.

"Yeah, night!"

Emyrs slowly walked to the basement door and disappeared with a concerned look gazing from her landlord.

Everyone was adjusting, April conceived, in their own subtle ways. Three families who had a spectrum of hopes and complications and who were crossing into each others' territories.


	3. Chapter 3 :: Practice

_Synopsis: We have been introduced to a new world for the Hamatos and the Beckers, one that will allow them to mingle with the humans. Emyrs and Abigail Becker are a mother and daughter duo that came from Germany to visit Splinter. So far, things have been mundane, and everyone tends to their daily business and routines. _

_

* * *

_

He watched the young female half-breed struggle to keep up with an even-tempered Raphael. Raphael, steady and confident, was always at his best, Leonardo reflected, and not when his brother was temperamental and on fire. Raphael was, he thought, the best teacher for an eager student; he was always good with children, anyhow.

As Raphael dodged all of her moves, Leonardo stood firm, arms crossed, eying every motion and ready to compliment or criticize. Soon he fell deep into thought, casting memories of his family in a blaze of the evening's routine. They were all getting older, his brothers and he, reaching a critical age of independence and adventure, for some.

Raphael, the one that kept the family concerned over his erratic behavior and thirst for acceptance, was slowly becoming the warrior that Leonardo and Splinter always wanted him to be. He smiled more often now, engaged in more family activities, disappeared less often, and pondered the idea of traveling with Leonardo to the far reaches of Asia. Leonardo couldn't put his finger on exactly what changed his brother but he wasn't going to question it and hoped it would always stay that way.

"Pick up the pace on her, Raph," Leonardo quipped. "More speed, less strength right now. She can handle it."

"Hey!" Raphael's quick breaths interrupted, "We're getting there, Leo! How about -" He dodged Abby's skinny leg aiming for his head. "-how about asking Mikey or Don to pitch in a bit? We do all the work!"

"I'm here, I'm here, O Great One," trotted in Donatello, wearing practice gear. "I had a few more things to finish up. Hand the girl over." He smiled down at the sweaty teen who wiped her brow a few times and bent over to catch her breath.

Donatello had also progressed, too; he was still a whiz at mechanics, electronics, and general study and not quite as reclusive anymore. For the past two years, he had his heart set on joining a team of co-species scientists that were traveling the world in their on-going research. It was his dream but the odds were against him. As smart as he was, he never had a formal college education and the credentials needed. His family encouraged him to keep trying and networking as much as possible. Some days, Don was a dormant landmine ready for the right opportunity to set him free.

"You guys are unreal," she gasped. "I thought I knew everything at twelve years old!"

"Not quite, Abby! We were the same way," Don chuckled and tossed a staff at Abigail, who almost didn't catch it. "It's a continuing education."

"Like figuring out my mother?" She joked.

Leo stepped in. "I bet she thinks the same way about you. All parents and children do."

"Hey, before we get started, do you mind if I ask you three something?"

"As long as it's not about the bees and birds. That's better suited for your mama," Raphael sallied, his words muffling in and out as he rubbed a towel on his face.

"Mother's advice for that is," she stiffened up, holding a finger in the air and mockingly quoted, "'Birds bite and bees sting; boys make babies so stay away from them!"

Leo and Raphael coolly chuckled with Don agreed, "Smart lady. Keep listening to her."

"What's your question, kid? I gotta meet up with Case here in a minute," stated Raphael, pitching the towel in a corner.

"Is your brother Michelangelo usually so moody and distant? Did I do anything to him? He seems to talk to everyone but me."

Michelangelo. If anyone wanted to talk about change, it was him. It was like they traded an angry Raphael for a reclusive Mikey. He didn't even want to be called Mikey anymore, just "Mike" or his full name. The family really didn't understand the change, or what brought about the change in him, or how it was a long-time change coming or something that suddenly happened.

Leonardo proceeded carefully. "Mike never used to be that way. We don't know what happened to him."

"It was like he woke up one day and decided to be an ass," Raph scoffed.

"Not quite like Raphael just described," Don disagreed. "More like a subtle change. There were signs we could see now that we didn't see then. I believe he's just going through a young adult crisis. People deal with it differently. He just wants to be left alone with his Klunk version 2 and pen and paper."

Leonardo finished, "So don't think it's you. He hardly knows you so why would he not like you?"

Abigail tightened her hair band to keep her thick, red hair out of her face and shook her head. "I guess so. I just feel weird around him, that's all."

Raphael jingled his keys. "Nothing new to us, kid! Keep your chin up. I'm outta here. Night!"

"One more round, this time defending from Don's attacks and we'll take a good long run," Leo instructed. "We'll go visit Mike in the morning and see how he's doing."


	4. Chapter 4 :: The Stars

_Synopsis: Abigail trained with Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael, and we learned that Michelangelo holds a more serious temperament now. He has moved into the Jones' apartment with his new cat, Rosie, writes, and has become reclusive._

* * *

Autumn in a foreign country had an almost magical impression and the amendment to a new season illuminated fresh ideas and moods. Her European home made a subtle change in season, almost too slow for her liking, but here, she could taste the approaching winter. The wind remained steady and crisp. Mornings were still her favorite time: waking up before anyone else, daydreaming, and beginning her daily chores.

For a moment, Emyrs smiled to herself but it quickly faded as she remembered the awkward moment with Miss O'Neil. It was like her mind had suddenly grown cold and empty. She felt uneasy about the events afterward and retreated to the basement. Nothing could hold her attention long enough so she stepped outside to the small alleyway, looking up at the stars and finally losing her thoughts.

An approaching vehicle roar disturbed the quiet moment and it dawned on her that she might need to duck for cover (something she wasn't used to) but instead she immobilized with her blanket wrapped around her, pajamas, and bed shoes. The headlights blinded her for half a second before a deep, New York accent tore through the alleyway.

"Nice jammies," Raphael snickered, shutting off the lights and engine. He stepped off the bike and pushed it deeper into the alleyway.

"They were on sale, couldn't complain about them," Emyrs commented but stopped short. "Okay, you got me. They were Abigail's and I stole them, but just for the night."

Raphael took off his helmet and stood beside her. "Whatcha looking at up there?" He glanced at the sky. "Saw you staring pretty hard."

"I like the stars and the night. Plus, the air helps, too."

The two watched the sky, soaking in the New York City nighttime and what seemed like for ages until Raphael spoke up, "Your daughter is with Leo and Don. She put in a good session tonight. And she's pretty cool for a twelve year old."

"Abby's a good kid. I've tried to keep her level-headed." Wrapping herself tighter with the blanket, Emyrs lowered her head back to the alleyway, peering at her friend. "Late night cruise?"

"Yeah, Casey wants to blow off some steam; the normal life is getting to him, I guess," he mocked and glanced at her. "And it gets me out of the sewer."

She nodded. "I imagine it would get pretty cramped down there but then it gets cramped in our little cottage, too. That's why some friends, Abby, and I built a smaller cottage for her because she was getting on my nerves."

They shared some chuckles.

"If I could build something here, I would!" Raphael thought, tinkering with his helmet.

"Your brothers would miss you too much and visit you all the time. And you would let them," she quipped, turning to go back into her temporary home. " Which isn't a bad thing. Family is very important, right?"

"No doubt about it."

"It's bedtime. Think I've been scared enough for one night. It was nice talking to you; seems like we haven't exchanged many words since we arrived and were all crammed in the van together."

"Been keepin' busy," he grinned, jingling his keys.

"Thanks for being Abby's teacher. She needs a few more role models in her life." Emyrs opened the door and turned back to him before she closed it, finishing, "And nice bike."


	5. Chapter 5 :: Good Morning

_Synopsis: Autumn is sprinkling through the families' lives. People who wouldn't have met through any other means have crossed into each others' paths and creating strong bonds. _

* * *

Morning sounds rarely included dishes clinking and the smell of fresh food in the household. April hated preparing breakfast, he recalled, and her breakfasts never smelled this good (no offense to her). The noise and smell prompted him to investigate. It's not like he slept at night anyways and maybe the bathroom was free. He could use that excuse if anyone asked.

Opening his bedroom door really caused the smell to become more powerful, and it had been a long time since he had some decent breakfast (because he couldn't cook breakfast worth a damn either). He groggily looked at the bathroom's direction, wanting to head that way and avoid conversation with the cook. After watching Emyrs whipping around the small kitchen like a pro, he entertained the idea of actually speaking with her. They had crossed paths a few times and he was intrigued by her family and their journey, but he could never bring himself to say very much.

"Oh, morning! I didn't see you standing there," she smiled, briskly returning to her work. "Would you like coffee? Wait, do you even drink coffee?"

He stumbled on his words slightly. "Oh. Yeah, it does help keep me up at night to work."

"By the looks of it, you could use some to wake you up," she joked, scrambling eggs at the stove.

He toddled towards the coffee machine. "Actually, I never went to sleep. Insomnia hits me every now and then. I can't even work when I have it." While his footsteps were shaky, pouring the coffee was an easy task.

"I get that less frequently now. Had it bad when I was your age."

"How did you make it happen less frequently?"

"Aged, I suppose," she lightly joked, turning to slide the finished eggs onto a plate. "Since you have coffee, it's only right if you enjoy breakfast, too, Michelangelo."

"Yeah, you have it smelling pretty good in here. I like to try it out."

He sipped on his coffee and walked to the living room to relax on the armchair. Mike spent so much time in his room that he almost forgot what the rest of the apartment looked like. It had been earlier in the year that he moved out of the sewer and was now staying at April's. The situation worked out perfectly: he could have his peace to write and April and Casey had a babysitter for baby Shadow. In the back of his mind, he knew that his family resented him moving out and then barely speaking with them, but the current year brought mixed emotions about everything. The years of repression emerged in over a week and changed everything he and his family knew. The way he saw it, the time was coming for them all to leave the nest and fly elsewhere. Mike felt like he was in limbo, waiting for the next train to come along to take him away.

The basement door cracked open and out stumbled a frizzy-haired, sleepy tween. Rubbing her eyes and resembling a zombie, Abigail (was that her name, he asked himself) didn't blurt a word as she flopped on the couch. The couch suddenly exclaimed, moaned, and finally cursed at her, and she almost zoomed out the window in the style of a 1930s cartoon character.

Wow, Mike hadn't even noticed that Raphael was snoozing on the couch.

"Watch it, toots," Raph mumbled and folded back into the couch, spewing out more incomprehensible angry words.

"Abby, go wash up." Emyrs grinned at her and pointed to the bathroom. Abigail hastily scooted away.

Mike leaned over and tickled Raph's coarse foot. Maybe a night of insomnia compelled his sense of humor to surface again.

After a few moments, Raphael still wasn't moving at all so Mike gave up, sat back on the armchair, and savored his coffee.

"You know damn well I ain't ticklish on my feet, MIKE," came the muffled voice from the couch. Slowly emerging, Raph peered at Mike with blood-shot eyes and an equally dry look.

"My memory's bad then."

"Maybe if you were around a little more, sport," jeered Raph, rubbing his face and sitting up.

"You got me there," Mike grinned. "Work on your humor and I might come around more."

Raphael's morning voice boomed. "And wouldn't that be peachy, bro? It can all go back to normal with you acting like a clown and all of us clobbering your brains out!"

"You can drop that voice, you know. There are sleeping people here," Mike hissed.

"So now you act like you have some manners," his brother scoffed.

"Mother, I don't have my toothpaste up here," Abigail's tiny voice crawled from the bathroom.

"Brush your teeth after breakfast. Just comb that rat's nest on your head!" Emyrs snapped, closing the microwave door. They exchanged a couple of words in their native tongue, which sounded like Emyrs wasn't happy with her daughter but then all of the German language sounded like that to Mike.

Mike rose from his chair and placed the half-full cup of coffee on the counter. "Emyrs, sorry to skip your wonderful breakfast but I'll catch it another time before you leave."

He hated to do it, but being around Raphael brought out the worst in him. Leo was finally right about something. As soon as Abigail left the bathroom, Mike made his way there.


	6. Chapter 6 :: Join Us

_Synopsis: Raphael and Michelangelo aren't as close as they once were. Somewhere in Mike's timeline, there has been a ripple, or three. _

* * *

The tranquility his room provided was his comfort zone. No arguing, no violence, no loudmouths, but no breakfast either, he groaned and his stomach agreed. Most of his meals consisted of whatever perishables he could stuff into this little space, and he had to leave room for Rosie, the Tiny Kitty that Could. She possessed the wittiest behavior and made up for attitude that she lacked in size. He saw a lot of Klunk in Rosie, especially since they were almost the same color, and most days, he still missed his old cat. Rosie was especially affectionate, almost too much, as she interrupted his work often for hours of petting and loving. Typical cat behavior, he agreed but one that he wouldn't trade for the world. After the loss of Klunk and before Rosie came along, the days were too lonely and too boring. Work had to be interrupted for a cuddle with soft fur.

Rosie mewed from the floor, caressing Mike's leg repeatedly, and a smile broke into his morning face as he picked her up to join him on the bed. He held the small cat in front of him.

"Can I tickle your feet and you won't get grumpy on me, will you?" he teased, tickling her belly instead. Rosie used one of her paws to gently bap Mike's hand.

"I've never been a morning person, I guess." Rosie was brought closer to his body with her belly up and Mike continuing to rub it.

"It's just too hard right now, Rosie. Too hard to let go."

Rosie gave a sympathetic mew.

* * *

An unhappy Raphael was jolted from his slumber once again but this time by a cross April and her right hand.

"Next time, take your arguing outside!" she shrilled, scampering to the kitchen and pouring some coffee. "If you would have woken up Shadow, I'd beat you with this coffee cup!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," Raph groaned. "Can't do shit right this morning." He threw the blanket over his head.

"Wow, this breakfast looks great..." she muttered and took a sip of her coffee. "I might need to start paying her to cook breakfast, too. What do you think?"

When there wasn't an answer from the couch, April walked to Mike's room and gently knocked. "Mike, breakfast. You really need to eat this."

"Sorry, pretty lady. I'm not hungry," came a muffled reply behind the door.

"If I need to kick Raph out so that you can enjoy a little decent breakfast I will. Can we please try to eat together? You don't have to talk."

"I dunno..."

April pouted. "Oh, come on, for me?"

For a few seconds, there was no reply and April almost gave up until the door creaked open and Mike appeared with a sad smile. "Anything for you."

The rest of the crew joined in for breakfast thirty minutes later. Shadow whined from her crib in the bedroom, Casey looked like a stuffed dinosaur (and acted like a beast too), Mike and Rosie sat on the armchair, and Raph remained in a grumpy slumber. April poured beverages into glasses and handed plates to everyone. Since the apartment was small, the dinner table was folded up in the corner and was only ever used for special occasions. Food was normally served wherever.

Casey inhaled his food and suddenly realized, "Are the Germans going to join us?"

"There are a couple of plates freshly washed so looks like they've already eaten," April peered behind her. "They left a pile of food, don't worry."

"They can stay as long as they want," he slurred through his food, spitting fragments into the air. "This is the best damn food ever."

"I'll certainly pay them if you want! Just make more money and it shall be done, Master," she flashed, obviously taking offense to his remark. She leaned on the counter facing the living room and savored her food.

"Think I'm in for a raise soon," he nonchalantly stated and turned to the couch, "Raph, get your ugly self up and eat. I won't leave any for you later."

Something came from the couch that rhymed with "pluck doo" and Raph never moved an inch.

Mike allowed Rosie to nibble on a piece of bacon from the floor and his face expressing tenderness. The breakfast was delicious and it made him feel totally opposite from the Lump on the Couch. As he peered around the room, it was nice to see everyone enjoying something together. Shadow's giggles leaked from the bedroom and that always brightened his day. She knew how to cheer her Uncle Mike up.

Maybe this day won't be so hard after all, even with his brothers silently approaching the window.


	7. Chapter 7 :: Brothers

_Synopsis: There is a clown or two in every family. For the Hamatos and Beckers, Casey Jones serves as their jester. Though Casey may be goofy, Shadow Jones has a wonderful set of hardworking parents._

_Brotherhood can be broken, but never forgotten._

* * *

Now the two-bedroom apartment felt even more cramped as Donatello and Leonardo slithered into the living room. Mike's good mood dropped slightly as his brothers tend to gang up on him when they're all together. Rosie leaped onto Mike's lap, assuring Mike that she was there to comfort him.

Deep breaths, Mike, deep breaths. Good thoughts. They're my brothers, not my enemies, he concluded.

Leo and Don only smiled and nodded at Mike with Don staring at him a bit longer than Leo, who turned to a drooling Raph on the couch. Casey motioned for the both of them to eat the Food that Could Make You Orgasm, Mike chuckled to himself, and April began clearing dishes. Petting a purring Rosie kept him too busy to really say or comment on anything happening.

"I'm good, Casey, really," Don politely refused, turned away, and rolled his eyes. Mike smiled and shook his head.

"Raph, are you dead?" Leo snickered, leaning over the Green Lump on the couch. "Watch this, guys..."

Leo leaned a little further near Raph's ear and gently blew into it. Mike assessed that it was very un-Leo-like to pull a prank but he was only trying to lighten the mood. He was a leader through and through.

Raph shuffled slightly but never responded. This didn't satisfy Leo so he leaned over once again and whispered in an acute voice, "Oh, you bad boy, do it again."

If April's shrieks, Casey's jeers, and Emyrs' food didn't wake Raph up, that little trick sure did. The entire room shook in laughter with Casey almost choking on a piece of bacon and Rosie leaping out of Mike's lap and back into his bedroom out of sheer fright from the noise.

"God, I'll have nightmares for a week now!" Raph carped, throwing the blanket off himself and sitting up on the couch. "Holy mother of f..."

"Oh man, I needed some therapy like that before going off to work!" Casey guffawed, coughing up bits of bacon between words.

"Mike," Leo started with the room's amusement slowly fading, "how have you been, bro? We've been missing you at practice sessions with our new student."

Mike nodded. "Yeah. Work keeps me a little busy. I've missed it, too."

"Do you have time to join us this morning? We won't keep you long. It'll be nice to have you around."

Don pitched in at this point. "And since we're already on a roll with punch-bagging Raph, I'm sure you could add to the fun!"

"Im'ma start charging you clowns for Punch-Baggin' Raph Sessions," the peevish one piped up and quickly looked towards the bathroom. Once he saw it was free, Raph darted to salvation.

April appeared in the room with a smiling Shadow. "I don't mind if you take off for a few hours, Mike. I don't have any errands and I'm off work today."

It's not that he didn't want to be around his brothers but that going back to the Sewer Home made him feel incredibly uneasy. The bad memories outweighed the good and Mike could never push away the pain. He would never want his family to hate him but if he couldn't understand what was happening, how could he explain it to them?

...Maybe today would be different, he smiled inside.

"Ok. Sure. Do you mind if I get washed up, though?"

Leo and Don seemed like they almost sighed together. Were they both holding their breaths in anticipation waiting for his answer?

"Yeah, yeah! Go right ahead!" Leo swiftly returned.

Casey popped, "Scare the crap out of Raph, would ya?"

"We'll save it for later," Don promised. He and Leo chuckled and stopped short when the basement door opened, Emyrs and Abigail appearing behind it.

"She's all yours, gentlemen!" Emyrs stepped passed her daughter.

Abigail moved closer to the couch, inspecting it for any more sleeping lumps. "I feel so loved, Mother, thanks."

"Just be ready when you come home, okay?" Emyrs cooed at Shadow and used the baby's hand to wave at Abigail. "You have babysitting practice tonight."

"Yes, don't remind me," groaned Abby.

"Come again?" This time Emyrs looked up at her daughter. Abigail had already settled on the couch and turned to glance at the sharp voice and withering stare.

"Yes, I will remember," came a better reply from the tween. Her mother's harsh stare disappeared.

"If you all don't mind me following you down to the sewer, I would like to visit your father today." Emyrs grabbed her coat and hat. "Do you think he will be available to speak with me?"

"I don't see why not," Leo shrugged. "He was meditating when we left."

"I'm ready when you're ready then. Oh, April, do you need me to wash the dishes?"

"No, no!" April rejected, "I have plenty of time to do them. The breakfast was delicious. Just ask Mr. Baconator over there."

Casey ravaged another bacon. "Bitchin'. Should I give Em a kiss before going to work than you, April?"

"I wouldn't kiss you for nothing right now with all of that grease and food on your chin," April ragged, shifting Shadow to her left side.

"Well, I need a kiss from someone! I never go to work without a kiss!"

The bathroom door jarred open. "What about me, baby?" Raphael's deep voice rumbled.

Casey gagged, "I rather kiss the backside of that cat!"

Don picked up a frantic Rosie who returned from the bedroom. "That can be arranged, you know."

Casey wiped his mouth with the tie he was wearing and blazed out the door. "You boys are crazy," was all one could make out as Casey disappeared.

Rosie was getting antsy with Don holding her so she was returned to the safety of the floor. A quick rub was granted to her from Mike as he headed to the bathroom, not looking in Raph's direction, despite not feeling entirely too fussed with him. Baby Shadow was moved back to her crib while her mother continued cleaning the kitchen area. Emyrs entertained the boys with colorful stories of Abigail's childhood, especially the one where Abby's first word was "beer" (because her mother worked in a bar). All poor Abigail could do was sit and take it.


	8. Chapter 8 :: Tea Time

_Synopsis: A guest's hospitality can make a world of difference in a troubling situation. _

_Splinter's sons and the Beckers pay him a visit. There are no dead ends in the journey of life._

* * *

Stealth had never been her strong suit. In following these "ninja turtles" beneath the city and away from light, she had a touch of claustrophobia that occasionally nipped at her. Abigail had no trouble and enjoyed this sort of adventure. In her older age, Emyrs was careful to make one trip do everything she needed. With Abby in martial arts training, Emyrs didn't feel her own age too much and was interested in physical fitness but her bones were steadily grasping senior years. With any luck, she could keep pushing it for another ten, twenty years.

But certainly not if she was constantly going in and out of manholes and crawling through cesspools.

Still, Splinter was a dear friend, or she felt like he was a dear friend. He meant something to her, which puzzled her as they had never met.

"Watch yer step, young lady," Raph called behind her and she thought he was trying to be very polite with that 'young lady' gibberish.

She almost let her tongue slip and quip a snarky reply but put on the brakes instead. "You have to stay fit going and coming out of here, right?"

"It'll come as second nature to ya after a few hundred times. Another step there."

"I can see why he doesn't get out often. I wouldn't care too much for this either."

"We find shortcuts. That's the key," Leonardo jumped in. "And our father can navigate these sewers better than any of us."

"Then how about he come see me next time, huh?" she joked and continued watching her steps as Raphael and Donatello barked warnings behind her. Michelangelo, in front of her, had almost become a safety net quite a few times.

"Almost there, Mother. And consider this payback for putting me through those humiliating stories earlier," Abigail taunted.

"Fair enough," Emyrs agreed and took one last big step onto the platform. The entrance to the Sewer Home was very camouflaged with the structure, and you had to perform cartwheels, tuck your head in and out of your shell, and fluttered your fingers, she reckoned, to open the doorway. It really wasn't at all like that but it might as well been. She could never tell what they did to spread the threshold.

As they spilled into the home, one couldn't tell it was a sewer they just waded through, and it was a nicely decorated establishment. She was sure Splinter kept his boys on top of their chores and maintaining cleanliness. This made her feel a little embarrassed that her tiny cottage was usually in a mess. Good thing they weren't visiting her. She would have nowhere to keep them!

It didn't take long for everyone to go their separate ways: Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo (rather pale actually; she hoped he would be alright) with Abigail into the training area, and Leonardo with a soggy Emyrs into Splinter's chamber. Leonardo stood outside the sliding doors and called for his father in a hushed tone. Along with her bones, Emyrs' hearing wasn't the best either so she thought she heard a muffled reply. When Leo slid the door open, she had confidence in her hearing again.

"Good morning, Emyrs. Nice to see you again after an extended leave. I missed your company," the elder rat beamed. He sat on his floor in traditional Japanese style and offered her some tea. Leonardo closed the door behind them and poised beside it.

The room smelled faintly of incense and she was enjoying the small oriental-style lamps. She had to ask where he got those because Abby might like them in her cottage. It was just the right shade of color, too.

Emyrs almost forgot to reply to Splinter's request. "No tea for me, thanks. I was admiring your lamps."

"They were a gift from Miss O'Neil a couple of years ago."

"Abigail would have a fit over them. I'll have to ask April where she found them."

Splinter poured and sipped his tea with such gracefulness that she was very glad she didn't ask for any. Truth be known, she was a bumbling idiot this morning because this conversation was going to hit the heart of their complicated situation.

"Would you like for us to be alone?" Splinter's ears repositioned, showing concern.

"No, no, he can stay. He will find out eventually and I have nothing to hide, but..." she hesitated and glanced at one of the lamps. "Do you remember me at all? Did my name slip off your tongue as soon as you saw me although you've never seen me before?" She looked back at him.

He remained regal. "It did not."

"I remember waking up one morning a year ago," she started, "and it was raining like crazy outside. Each drop that fell brought back memories, it seemed, and I was overwhelmed from it all. I don't consider myself the spiritual type but it was all too strange to just happen like a natural occurrence."

"What I'm trying to say, Splinter, is that I remembered your name and I remembered our friendship. I felt like I have met you before. It all sounds crazy. There are so many black holes in my memory. I could be very wrong about this."

The incense suddenly felt stifling and the room now exhibited heat. Or it was just her because Splinter and Leonardo remained calm, unmoved and she was almost a puddle on the floor.

"I wish I could help you more, dear Emyrs. I am content with my life and my sons. This home, we created from our own blood and sweat and defend it with the very same passion. You came seeking for me and seeking for answers to your questions. I have none to give to you, I'm afraid."

She nodded, gnawing at her embarrassment and disappointment. No, she didn't wish for direct answers but for someone to understand the mystery with her. It compelled her to search harder and beyond just visiting an "old friend".

"However," Splinter's voice broke into her thoughts, "you give me a familiar, comfortable feeling. We don't allow too many strangers into our home, as you can deduce."

"And I don't leave my homeland and fly across the ocean for a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach."

Just for a quick second, she doubted him and doubted that he could help her at all, or even wanted to help her. Four lads and intensive spiritual training clogged up his time so it was foolish of her to press the issue further.

He smiled gently. "I am glad to have met you, though. If you are interested, my son and I can guide you through a metaphysical course. I believe it might benefit you."

She bowed her head. "If we stay any longer, I will consider it. Thanks for your time and input, Splinter. I'm sorry to trouble you."

The next few seconds as she exit the space, breath whistled out of her mouth and once she could find a silent area, Emyrs exhaled the most she ever held in her chest. Going to see him served no purpose, just embarrassed herself and put him in an awkward situation. Come off the fairy tales and high expectations, she scolded, and get back to real life.

Leonardo and Splinter watched her from the room, still in their same positions. Leo had his back towards Splinter, leaning in the entrance-way.

"A year ago, I found you lost and in the rain. You had been sobbing and clawing at yourself for hours. The signs of a mental breakdown, Father."

A few moments passed.

"Yes."

"Isn't that where your answer is?" Leo nodded towards Emyrs, who was still visibly shaken.

"I'm not looking for an answer. She is."


	9. Chapter 9 :: Versus

_Synopsis: Emyrs Becker learned that her instincts were on the wrong track, and embarrassed, she tosses those feelings into the air._

_But her questions revealed Splinter's peculiar incident from a year ago, and only half of the Hamato brothers know about a troubling circumstance surrounding his father._

* * *

Uneasy wasn't the word Mike was feeling, standing there watching Donatello blocking the student's attacks. The entire place made him shiver. His only saving grace was that Raphael had wanted to return to his room; Mike could handle Don's personality a lot better than Raph's.

When they all walked through the familiar entrance-way, his body steered away from his father's room. He didn't want to see Splinter's seasoned, weary face and those dark mournful eyes. Both he and his father knew that Mike could see passed the optimism, the spiritual advice, and paternal instinct of protecting one's child. The contrition punctured his good mood even more.

"Hey," Donatello expressed, not breathing half as much as Abigail, "Why don't you exercise for a bit, Mike?"

He walked towards Mike and handed the equipment to him. "It can't be good for you to be all holed in that room. You used to rag me for living in my shop."

Mike stood with hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. "I remember."

"Then here. Release that frustration."

Mike hesitated. "I'm not really sure, Don. I -"

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Abigail lightly cracked, joining the party.

"Are you going to let her tease you like that?" Don's right eyebrow cocked. "Show her what the Turtle Titan is made of."

A snicker left Mike's lips and he took the training equipment, only to satisfy them if he needed. "I'm not responsible for any bruises or cuts. Don't go telling your mother on me now," as he stepped onto the middle of the mat.

Don leaned down, whispering, "He's going to clean the floor with you, you know that, right?"

"I know," she mouthed back and appeared a little nervous. Her palms perspired already, heart thumping hard in her chest, and she was only walking to greet him on the practice floor. This just might be the Practice to end all Practices, she gulped. That young man might be a little unstable with his emotions but his body told another tale.

Don signaled the green light to begin, and while her confidence was trembling, she remained defiant and gave it her best shot. Mike was quick as lightning; not bulky like Raphael or strategic like Don, and certainly not as intimidating as Leonardo, but he was magnificent in his moves and almost danced to a certain beat. In her eyes, if he had not been practicing for a while, she couldn't tell it. Mike worked the floor like he owned it.

It was certainly the best and the most bizarre workout she ever encountered and was incredibly thankful to him for the insight into a new form. She bowed graciously and grabbed a water break. Donatello accompanied a smiling Mike.

"Feel better?" Don chirped.

Mike wiped his forehead. "It was like old times."

"Yep, you still showed out," erupted a familiar, irritating voice from the shadows. Mike swallowed back that good mood.

"Wouldn't be Mike if he wasn't showing off," Don joked, trying to save the situation before it couldn't be helped anymore.

Raphael mounted near the mat, arms crossed, peering hard at Mike. "You want to stop being a hardhat now and act like you might be a part of this family again?"

"Raph, that's really not fair -" Don jumped, but Mike held up his hand to stop him.

"Actually a little training like that put a lot of things into perspective for me."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"That I still don't care to be around you."

Donatello sighed and walked off the mat. It was best to get out of dodge and let the two siblings duke it out in an ACTUAL battle room.

"That's a bit harsh, little brother!" Raph belittled, uncrossing his arms and extending them. "You know, I haven't done a damn thing to you! I've always defended you, took care of you, and hell, if we were like humans, I'd probably wipe your ass as a kid, too."

"But you're demeaning in everything you say!" Mike felt the heat rise in his face. "I've grown up, I've changed, and you can't accept it."

"I can accept change," retorted Raph, "but you're not the brother I knew. You did more than change. You broke apart this family and act like it's not suppose to hurt us."

He remained motionless in his position, not even blinking. At this point, Mike didn't even want to argue anymore. What would be the point? For an author who constantly searched for the right words, he was coming up empty in this situation. The best he could do was twiddle with the staff in his hands; it curbed his dying attention.

"Knucklehead," Raph muttered after no response from his brother and walked back into the shadows.

When the staff no longer held his concentration, Mike cast it aside and ambled to the living room, his old stomping grounds. There, he found an equally distressed lady turtle who didn't make him want to scratch at the air for something to say.


	10. Chapter 10 :: Break

_Synopsis: Mike gives Abigail a taste of his fighting spirit, dancing to the beat of a different drum than from his brothers. The reunion is short lived when sparks fly between him and Raphael. _

_Instead of changing Raphael's iron opinions, Mike joins Emyrs in the living room to cool his head._

* * *

For a few moments, she didn't realize there was another person sitting next to her. She could have been mumbling to herself and Michelangelo probably thought she was losing her mind. It wouldn't be the first time that has happened, really.

She rested on the torn couch, leaning over the edge and smiled over at him so he didn't think she was completely ignoring him (or being a loon). Some music began thumping from one of the upstairs' bedrooms; rock and roll or heavy metal tunes, she figured. If she was in a better mood, she would be humming along to it.

"He does that when he's angry," remarked Mike who was positioned on the sofa arm. "Although he's gotten a new album since the last time I was here."

Emyrs took the opportunity to make light of the situation. "So no longer AC/DC but those Korn or Limp Bizkit new type kind of bands?"

Mike lifted his head up to listen in on the music. "I don't think Raph liked the Limp Bizkit music too much. I'm not sure what he's thumping up there."

"That doesn't sound like AC/DC to me. He might have changed since you moved out."

Mike shrugged and returned to silence.

Emyrs looked around the lair and piped up, "Either way, whatever he's listening to sounds like shit."

"Don't tell him that. He gets defensive over his music."

She scooted her feet across the floor. "Yeah, I'll be sure to tell him to go back to the good stuff when I see him."

"Metal's just not for me. That kind of music puts me on edge."

Emyrs settled back on the couch in a more relaxed position. "I grew up with the rock and roll music and enjoyed the hair bands a lot. I'm not really fussed with it too much now. Abby listens to classical music mostly. Talk about boring after a while..."

"A teenager that listens to classical music?" Mike turned slightly to look at her, bewildered. "What did you do to her?"

"She listens to many other music types, but classical helps her meditate. I prefer jazz."

"I used to listen to alternative and new rock but I guess I prefer silence now that I'm an author. Rosie gets jittery when I snap on some tunes."

Emyrs chuckled, "That cat of yours. What did you do to her, yeah? She's a bit odd for a kitty."

"We oddballs stick together," he amused and grinned at the thought of Rosie peering up at him with those beady, innocent eyes.

Emyrs grinned along with him and the both enjoyed a moment's peace, even with the mystery music pounding upstairs. She decided it was the perfect time to tell a story.

"I got Abigail a cat when she was a young one. The cat was a stray around my workplace, a bar if you remembered, and it had the strangest pattern of colors on its little fur. It took some time for me to calm it down and approach me."

Mike listened intently and kept his own cat in mind as Emyrs relayed the tale. She told the biography with such passion and humor; it was a moment that he needed to remember when he returned to his writing. He chuckled at her misadventures with the cat, Otto, from digging up her flowers and climbing up walls to relieving itself (numerous times) in her kitchen sink. Mike could tell she despised the cat but grew to love it after some time.

She paused after some time. "When..," Emyrs halted and her smile faded, "..when Abby's best friend died a couple of years ago, Otto was there for her more than I could be. I was a single mother and had to continue working. Otto was that child's best friend."

Recollecting that Abigail was still only a child, Mike looked sullen. He and his brothers could relate to losing a childhood.

Emyrs continued, "If you ever want to talk about pets and how much they mean to you, Abby can understand. Otto is her right-hand man and almost like her shadow."

"Klunk was never my shadow; he was always off doing his own thing but Rosie is latched onto me. She can sympathize and never screams at me."

Emyrs sighed and quickly peered in the distance, admitting, "I can scream a lot. I'm guilty of being a bit loud when I shouldn't be."

"You're a mother, though."

"But every family screams at each other," she finished and leisurely stood. The muted tune lingered throughout the home and she glanced around the front room area. "May I turn on the television or do something to pass the time? I've already counted the number of patterns in this floor rug about a million times until I'm sick of it."

Mike searched around for the remote and eventually found it under a stack of motorcycle magazines. It was still covered in sticky, ooey, gooey... something. Probably syrup but he really didn't want to keep guessing. All he had to do was remember the times he ate junk in front of the tv.

"I see a video game console down there. Want to play a game or two?" she asked, fumbling around the cords.

After accepting the request, the two spent an afternoon dodging bananas, saving a princess, and spinning the wheel for cash prizes. They made so much noise that many of the lair's tenants had to see what was happening and, curiously, joined the Game Party.


	11. Chapter 10, Part 2  :: Your Friend

_Synopsis: Music, pets, lost childhoods .. Mike only needed to see the world from a different point of view. And he was invited to play his video games where it only took a brief moment to feel like his old self again._

_Now it's time to bid the Sewers farewell and breathe a fresh and, curiously, new air._

* * *

The trek from the sewer back to April's home seemed as long as the journey to the lair. The Hamato sons promised to take a shortcut back that didn't include murky water or throat-imploding smells. She knew it was something they couldn't help, living and hiding under the city, and she kept most comments to herself on the way back home.

"Mother, pick up your step some," Abigail mumbled behind her and that caused Emyrs to slow down even more.

"That better?" Emyrs snickered and was sure her daughter wore a snide smile, what she usually did, but instead, she felt a shove on her back and this made her as clumsy as a tarred goose.

"Mother!" was all Emyrs heard as her body lost gravity control and plopped right into the water. The murky, nasty, yucky water that she had been trying to avoid all day.

Eight sets of hands reached for her, and after she was saved from the ankle-deep water, five sets of voices erupted in snickers.

"Sorry, Mom," she apologetically laughed, "I never realize that I have such strong hands!"

"Forcing your poor Mother to walk the plank, I see!" Emyrs playfully snapped and whisked away some of the filth.

"And what are you all laughing at?" she continued cheerfully at Splinter's sons. The laughter was still echoing in the sewer and she had to soon join the poke at her clumsiness.

"I knew it was a good idea she didn't hold the game system on the way back," Don quipped with Leonardo nodding in agreement.

Emyrs shook herself like a wet dog and turned to Abigail. "Since you lovingly pushed me into my death, it's only fair that you-"

Abigail squealed as her own clothes were forcefully used to dry her soaked mother's body. This caused a wave of commotion through the sewer with Raphael and Mike stepping out of the galloping ladies' way. They were almost completely out of sight when the young men decided to play their own pranks.

"We're leaving!" Raphael hollered followed by Don and Mike's shouts of goodbyes.

Leonardo whispered, "Ninjas, vanish!" and the brothers disappeared, leaving their poor guests scrambling to find their way out of the sewer.

* * *

Emyrs flicked on her bedroom lamp and used her nightstand to prepare a letter. Abigail was snoozing away, very tired from her adventures and late-night gaming with her teachers. Emyrs could still hear noises upstairs, mostly Raphael and Donatello complaining that Mike was cheating on a video game. It looked like those boys needed some family time, and she was more than happy to oblige. Not enough showers could take the smell of the sewer off her skin. There were many times in her life that she did what she had to do but writing a letter to Splinter was a hell of a much better idea than tromping through New York's gutters. She wished their elevator had worked but Don had been hammering on it for days and couldn't repair it. Just her luck, she chuckled.

Chewing on the end of her pencil for a short minute, she peered at a picture of herself and Abigail on the nightstand. That picture was taken one spring day, six months ago in fact, and Abby, in the picture, was delighted to know they would be taking an extended vacation to America soon. Her curly red hair was a complete mess, and if memory served correct, Abby had just achieved her Purple Belt. On that particular day, nothing could break the child's happy mood. It was all the reason why Emyrs was smiling in the photo, too. They stood in front of the cottage with Otto digging up her flowers in the background. That damn cat.

And next to the photo were two bottles of her medicine. Ironic, she remembered, that a few months prior to the photo, she was prescribed that medication. It helped her function. Without it, there were too many noises.

Anyways, it was getting late and she needed to write the letter while she could still see straight.

_Dear Splinter,_

_ Forgive me for only saying good bye after a bizarre second encounter together. I wish to see you again but I really can't tolerate the trek through the sewers. I'm in no way dishonoring your way of life but I hope you can understand that I'm not up to speed or stamina as you and your family are. Still, if you can't come see me, I will cross the sewers for you. Just like I crossed the ocean for you._

Wow, that sounded a bit romantic, didn't it, she muttered. He would get the point; he's a smart cookie. The pencil scribbled onwards.

_I would like to get to know you; please don't think I need to be zipped in a straight jacket! I remember you telling me the story of you and your sons' mutations. It fascinated me. Your stories sound like something in a comic book but then we have a few crazy ones of our own! Let's share them sometime._

_ Abigail and I will extend our stay for another couple of months. During that time, may we please see one another again? Your sons are delightful and each one has been so nice to my Abby, who needs a mentor and friend more than ever. You all have been very kind to two mysterious guests. I notice that you Americans will be celebrating your Thanksgiving soon and it will be our first. I really hope your family will continue to accept us as you all have been doing. We appreciate it and you are welcome to our home at any time. Undoubtedly._

_Your friend, Emyrs Becker_

Not too shabby, she cooed, although the "crossing the ocean for you" part did seem a touch too dramatic. Ok, erase that sentence, she fumbled.

_Still, if you can't come see me, I will cross the sewers for you. The ocean was difficult enough so I can tough it out!_

Abigail's snores were gaining volume, and her own eyesight was going blurry. With the medicine kicking in and lamplight shutting off, it didn't take long for the elder turtle to conquer dreamland.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ And this chapter concludes the first half of the saga! The coming chapters will have more action than daily, humdrum-type stuff. Brace yourselves for familiar characters (male & female) making their appearances. I'm excited to give some of them a makeover! :) Until then!


	12. Chapter 11 :: Kuma

_Synopsis: In the first ten chapters, we are introduced to a shifting world, where humans are making room for the Nons, like the Hamato family. While the world has certainly changed, so have the individual persons. The Hamato brothers are growing older and growing apart quickly. _

_Familiar faces will be greeting them once again._

* * *

How in the world could those boys train in this bitter cold? New York City had this angry winter, not like the carefree season from her homeland. It was just different and she wasn't used to it at all. Training was just that much more difficult. Her teachers were impressive to her and improved her own style each day, but they were males, and older males, who didn't quite seem to know what the word "break" meant.

She shouldn't whine, a thought whistled. These boys were tough as nails and the best in their field; keep your lips shut and comply.

As she struggled to keep up with the Bouncing Rooftop Brothers in the freezing weather, the one thing that made Abigail warm inside was the thought of tasting her mother's meat pie waiting for her back at the rental home. The flushed, hearty meal that has been a family tradition for years around winter could beat down any jog in the cold or difficult exam in school. A smile usually crossed her face all the way to her home and its presence was here under this foreign night sky.

The Hamato sons' leaping halted and Leonardo's voice cut quickly through the air. She thought she heard her own name but was a little too far behind to really understand what was happening ahead of her. Quite suddenly, a shadow recoiled towards her and a pair of warm hands captured her. Donatello's voice mumbled in her right ear.

"We're hiding. Move."

In a state of shock, she clumsily shuffled with Donatello to what he considered was a safe place for the both of them. Raphael and Leonardo's voices were extremely muffled but she could certainly hear a fight commencing.

"What -" she started but Donatello placed a finger over her mouth.

"Not now. Shush."

Waiting was the toughest part. The shock wore off slightly and the noises came closer and closer. Donatello whispered for her to once again move it and this time, they crawled off the rooftop and into the streets below. Amazing how stealthy she had become in a short time. Dipping into the darkness was like putting on an old pair of shoes.

Abigail couldn't see Donatello in the alleyway but his hand remained secured around her elbow. The battle noises became a distant echo, and as time inched along, her rapid heartbeat curtailed, eyes back in her skull, and Donatello's grip lessened. How could it all be very exciting and terrifying at one time?

"A few more minutes." Don's edgy voice instructed through the backstreet. She knew all too well not to relax even though the war on the topside began dissipating. The previous two months had been a wild ride for her, in both training and understanding a different culture. Mother wanted her to be worldly and disciplined, and each day Abigail, despite her tender age, reached closer to her goals. Her new teachers have taught her so much and she swallowed hard, thinking what would become of them if the enemy succeeded. Would Mike and Master Splinter drown in sorrow in their small rooms? How could they all blissfully move one day to the next knowing one of their own could disappear? They all cared for one another but did they all just fall apart? What about all of their previous battles and sacrifices?

"Stop thinking about death."

"Yes," she felt herself whispered back to him without a moment's hesitance. He must have been in this scenario a hundred times and the same thoughts raced through his mind twice that many. Her cheeks flushed from the adrenaline and embarrassment. He was right; stay calm and comply.

* * *

"Checkmate," Splinter proudly announced with a curved smile. His elongated fingers reached over the board and settled back into his lap.

"Cheater!" Emyrs chirped, smile curving and studying how her opponent just won the game. From the kitchen, April chuckled silently while tossing lettuce.

Splinter nodded his head, his wiry fur a few shakes behind the momentum. "Sore loser."

"Those are fighting words, young one!"

"You don't pay attention, Lady Emyrs. It is a strategic game."

"I bet you couldn't beat me in tennis or gardening."

"Do not tempt me."

"I'm tempting."

"Bad idea."

Emyrs glanced at April, whose shoulders were bouncing up and down. "You look more like a rat than a chicken to me, Kuma."

"Kuma?" April blinked. "Doesn't that mean bear?"

"Yep. He's more of a bear than a rat, but right now, he's a chicken."

"In just that one sentence, you named him a barnyard!" April laughed and dug out the cutting board, uttering, "I hate tomatoes but Casey bends over backwards for them. He gets a bowl of his own."

Emyrs began clucking like a fowl, eventually laughing at Splinter's static expression.

"That is quite a good impression. I am entertained."

"Kuma, you're a trip," her laughter slowed and she wiped her eye, "Clear the board and I'll wipe it with you in this next round."

Splinter diligently removed the chess pieces. "Don't be deceived by appearances. You of all people should know that, Dame."

"Lady!" the brunette cried from the kitchen, still pounding on the cutting board. She rather enjoyed the learning experience.

Emyrs lifted her pieces off the game board. "Now I know where your sons get their spunk. Color me a fool. I thought you were a sweet old man. The light bulb should have switched on when I caught you watching daytime tv the other day."

"I enjoy my soaps. Robbie is going to confess to Maria tomorrow."

"On which one? You watch a billion of them."

His side of the board was clear now. "You do not pay close attention, certainly."

Her side of the board was only halfway vacant. "I don't watch your soaps! They're all cheesy, no matter which country you live in."

"Palace Dreams."

"Pardon?" Emyrs stopped.

"Palace Dreams. Robbie. Maria."

"He isn't going to confess to her, Splinter!" April declared. "Maria cheated on HIM one time before. He's paying her back!"

"Maria has a delightful soul," Splinter coolly protested, never turning his back towards the kitchen area. His ears flicked a quick second as Mike's bedroom door unhinged.

Groggily, Mike looked up and locked eyes with his father. April stopped her dicing and Emyrs cleared the rest of the board. Tense air filled the room with April and Emyrs exchanging quick glances and wondering what was going to happen next. Splinter had been visiting for a couple of days but as usual, Mike never came out of his room for much. Even with a slight breakthrough a couple of months back, his reclusive nature persisted and he only joined in a handful of family time. Nobody wanted to force him to do anything.

Rosie pranced out of the room, mewing and rubbing Mike's leg. Splinter broke the stare and grinned towards the cat.

"Mike," April cleared her throat, "What do you like in your salad?"

"The usual. I'll even take tomatoes if you have some."

"You like salad now, my son?" Splinter glistened. "I am happy to know this. I could never get you to eat salad."

Mike looked down at the floor and cocked a smile. "Goes good with pizza."

The two shared a peaceful moment. Emyrs and April returned to their duties but everything was aborted once there was a rushed knock from the living room window. Mike gently pushed a purring Rosie aside and strolled to the window. As soon as he opened it, he could smell the trouble brewing.


	13. Chapter 12 :: Bandages

_Synopsis: Abigail gets a first hand look at what the Hamato brothers have been doing their entire lives: running and fighting. A rooftop encounter with an unknown attacker gives Leonardo and Raphael a few scrapes and bruises. _

_Meanwhile, a rat and a turtle love their friendly chess games and soap operas._

* * *

"Mike, get the hell out of the way! You lookin' like we ain't ever come through here before!" Raphael brushed passed his groggy brother. When Raphael realized the living room had more guests, he broke off his temperament and did the only thing he could make his hand do: wave.

April, Splinter, and Emyrs gaped at the spectacle with Emyrs waving back a few moments later.

Donatello and Abigail arrived in the room with Leonardo bringing up the rear, taking one last look into the night, and peacefully shutting the window. Everyone stopped behind Raphael.

"Evening, my students. Dinner will be ready soon." Splinter's voice was caring and polite but held a distinctive sense of order. Nobody could really argue with him.

Mike gave his brothers a confused look, especially since Leonardo and Raphael had a good few cuts and scrapes on themselves. He really didn't want to deal with the drama and proceeded to the bathroom, where he wanted to go in the first place. Rosie sat on the living room floor, grooming herself and oblivious to the events.

"Uh, what are we having?" blurted Raph, looking towards April in the kitchen.

"First, you all shall get cleaned up. April is preparing a nice salad dinner. I expect you all to be back in twenty minutes."

The Window Guests disappeared as quickly as they entered the room. Emyrs couldn't believe how graceful Splinter handled something that looked like a disaster. Abigail looked petrified, Leonardo and Raphael bleeding, and Donatello as serious as she had ever seen him.

"I'll come back in a minute. Excuse me," she said and followed the group down the basement.

Once she entered the dwelling, Emyrs softly pushed the door closed and overlooked the crowd. Donatello was applying first aid to Leonardo on Abigail's bed.

"Excuse us while we use your room for a bit, please. We won't be here long," Don assured and dotted Leo's hand with ointment.

"Take your time. Well, just twenty minutes as your father said. I think he might get all of us then," Emyrs playfully stammered. No one really replied to her comment.

Abigail poised by her mother's nightstand, leaning against the wall and darting her eyes from her mother then back to the ground. While Emyrs wanted to investigate (so badly), instead she pushed aside the idea and walked towards Don.

"May I help then? I'm here."

Don handed her the faded medical bag, and passing a nod to Leonardo, she walked to meet Raphael and Abigail on the other side. Raphael sat on the floor, looking as disgruntled as ever but it was probably from the workout and wounds than anything else. Emyrs pulled her sheets off the bed and patted it.

"Here, please."

Abigail and Raphael looked at each other, slightly puzzled, so he nodded for her to go ahead. As Abby pushed herself off the wall, Emyrs nodded.

"You're not bleeding, Abby. Will you be okay until I treat him?"

"Yes."

"I'm fine! Treat the girl -"

"Raph!" Leonardo and Donatello roared across the room: Leo's voice more commanding, Don's response was more annoyed.

He begrudgingly got onto his feet and stomped to the bed. Almost taking his shirt off, he froze and huffed to his brothers. "Switch with me, Leo."

Don sighed and continued medicating Leo's hand. "He doesn't want to undress in front of you ladies, Em."

"Where are your injuries then?" Emyrs asked and opened the bag.

Raphael didn't look at her, his huffing not quite as severe. "Some on my chest and shoulder. And one where you ain't touching at all. I'll do that one myself."

Emyrs poked inside the bag and brought out supplies. "Roll your shirt up and I"ll take care of the shoulder injury. You and Don handle the rest."

Raphael complied but instead of rolling up his shirt, he ripped it off and discarded on the floor. Emyrs shrugged and began medicating his shoulder wounds. Abigail turned away from the injuries. They looked quite painful but Raphael never muttered, winced, or whined, like she would have.

"You feel better over there, baby?" Raph teased at Leo. "That's what you get for messin' with the better fighter."

Leo caught onto the act. "My hands were the only ones injured. You have them everywhere, including privately."

Raph growled. "You pull that shit again and I'll cut yours off completely! You don't use it anyways."

"Ladies in the room, fellas," moaned Don.

Raph winced at his wounds finally. "Sorry, sorry. I'm dumb sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Leo shot back.

"In addition to my sai weapons," Raph began slowly, adding venom, "I have a pocketknife that will take care of the job, too. Remember that horror movie we watched? The one with the guy losing his pride?"

"And you and Mike screamed like little girls, too," Don joined in. "I almost had to hold the both of you tight."

"That was Mikey! He was the wuss! I don't hide under skirts. Ow!" he hissed, and Emyrs continued cleaning the wound. "Kick it down a notch, will ya, "love"?"

"I wouldn't want to break you," Emyrs joked. "And 'love' is that British crap."

Nearly discharging another comeback, Raphael closed his mouth and allowed his brothers to laugh at his expense. She was a guest, a lady, an older lady at that, and medicating his wounds. All she needed to do was jab a nearby object in his shoulder and he would be the Wuss of the Evening.

"British, Irish, Germans... same difference, right?" His tongue always got the best of him. That would never change.

"Almost like Canadians, Mexicans, and Americans. Same difference, right?" she jeered, and Don's laughter nearly blew them out of the room.

"Pick on Raph Night. I'm touched," he scoffed and glared in Don's direction. "Get back to bandaging Leo. Don't forget his mouth this time."

"There you go," Emyrs concluded and gave him a polite shove. "Off my bed and go clean up your other wounds."

"Yes, Mother," he groaned and stumbled off the bed. Abigail reclaimed his spot.

Before Raphael opened the door, he had to give his brothers one last glare. "Don't blow it," he mouthed to them and slithered out the room.


	14. Chapter 13 :: Rosie

_Synopsis: One thing that the Hamato brothers will always remember and that's to never disagree with their Father. They also didn't want Splinter to know that they were attacked and almost got their butts whooped. Pride and all._

* * *

After a delicious (and silent) salad dinner, Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello met in the deepest part of the alleyway. Hunched over his motorcycle, Raphael rubbed his shoulder injury and popped his neck; Donatello and Leonardo positioned in front of the bike, and all of the brothers wore intense looks.

"It's been a while since we've had to use our weapons against anyone. Got any guesses who that attacker could have been?" Leo broke the silence.

Don studied the surroundings. "Purple Dragons? They're still kicking around every now and then."

"But that fighter was too good to be one of those punks," Raph stated and eased onto the bike.

Leo nodded. "Raph's right. And the Foot have all but disappeared these days."

"Then we might be dealing with a random attacker?" Don switched his footing. "We might have hit someone's turf."

"No, Donny, that turf belongs to us. We crawl those rooftops almost nightly. I've never encountered that person before," Raph protested.

"Have you made someone mad lately, Raph?" came a cool voice from Leonardo. "I mean, seriously."

"Some street punks poking their noses where they don't belong. One almost scratched up my bike and I had to decorate the streets with 'im."

The gears were churning in Don's eyes. "Pardon me for inciting this idea, and I know it's been two months since the guests arrived, but we should know that every time someone new comes along..."

"...a new enemy appears," Leo finished. "But why were they waiting two months to do anything?"

"And the chicks come from a mountain in Doisland. Who the heck wants to hurt them?" Raph countered and bundled up his suit even more.

"Deutschland, Raphael," chided Don, giving a half hearted chuckle. Raphael opened his mouth to say something but stopped and waved his hand to dismiss it.

"Patrol watch then. Who is first?" Leonardo asked. Both he and Donatello looked at Raphael instantly.

"You know what? I actually want one of you goons to go first for once. I never get to see Boneheaded Casey much anymore and ..." his words trailed off and huffed.

"And what?" Donatello probed.

Raphael miffed, "And that's it!"

Leonardo angled towards Raphael. "You don't want to go on patrol? Do you have plans or something?"

"Yeah, I got plans!" Raph retorted and hurriedly got his bike ready to go. "That don't involve getting my thighs cut by some maniac!"

"Take a picture or video of this, Don. I'm highly shocked."

Raphael revved up his engine, smirked before donning his helmet. "Have a nice night. Bundle up!"

The motorbike howled in the darkness and careened towards the street.

"What about tomorrow night?" screamed Leo over the roar.

"I'll let you know!" was his brother's reply as he vanished into the city's flow. The two brothers in the alleyway were left standing puzzled by Raphael's abnormal decision. They only gazed at each other before passing on to the night's responsibilities.

* * *

The dishes had never been this ...sparkly before, she gaped, even when the dishwasher was working. April stood amazed and even inspected each dish before placing it back in the drain.

"Are they not to your satisfaction, Miss O'Neil?" Splinter's kind voice rattled. He had been working on the dishes for almost half an hour and had insisted on cleaning them, too.

April cheerfully inspected the dishes. "Wow! That's the cleanest I've ever seen them! I can't even get them that bright!"

"I've had much practice," he grinned and slowly brushed the debris out of a bowl.

"With four boys in the house, I would make sure NOT to do them," she laughed, dashing back and forth between the living room and kitchen to entertain a squealing Shadow in a highchair.

"I love a child's laugh," he commented, and something from the sound of his voice said that he missed it. April knew that with his family growing and changing, Splinter felt detached; she looked down at blissful baby Shadow and cursed at time in her mind.

Shadow reached for her mother. "Shadow laughs a lot so you're taken care of there!" April wiggled one of Shadow's toys in front of her so the baby's attention would be diverted. Mike really spoils the child, April groaned.

A bitsy cry sounded from the kitchen floor and Splinter found Rosie by his leg, rubbing and purring against it. "Hello there, neko," he greeted.

"Rosie's out? And Mike's not out here?" pondered April with Shadow gaining momentum in her chair, gnawing on the toy.

"Neko Rosie," Splinter quietly teased and wiped his hands dry. He groaned slightly as he bent down to retrieve the sweet kitty. "You are much more affectionate than Klunk."

The two rubbed their furry faces against one another, and Rosie's hums increased until they completely filled the room. Shadow outstretched her hands, babbling and lunging the toy in Splinter's direction. The view was certainly very endearing and April wanted it to last as long as it could, which was the reason for her shushing Shadow. Splinter massaged Rosie's ears and the cat was practically smiling.

April became lost in the moment and didn't see Mike standing in the doorway to his room until her eyes darted in that direction when Shadow threw the toy again. She almost squeaked his name but ceased when she saw that he was smiling at his father and Rosie bonding. Instead of commenting on anything, she giggled at Shadow and rattled the toy in front of the baby's face.

"Rosie is a good pet," Splinter chimed and released Rosie onto the floor. He glanced at Mike. "That means you are a good owner."

"I was trained by the best," Mike agreed. "Would you like to play a game of chess?"

"Only if you do not cry about me cheating, like my previous opponent."

Rosie leaped onto the sofa's arm, purring and cleaning herself. Shadow was desperately trying to reach the cat and threw another toy, only to miss and Rosie not even notice.

Mike chuckled. "I promise. Kuma."

Splinter affectionately shrugged.


	15. Chapter 14 :: Blindness

_Synopsis: Raphael didn't want to go on patrol, confusing the stew out of Leonardo and Donatello._

_Rosie brought Splinter and Mike closer, even for just one night._

* * *

The Thanksgiving holiday glided in quietly. For the longest time, it was debated if Casey could get that particular day off from his job but all he had to do was squeeze in a little lie and the time off was granted to him. If Casey had not been able to take off, April was going to have a brunch and set everything up in the more spacious basement area (and it was warmer down there, too). Nobody fussed about the situation and continued on with their daily (and nightly) activities.

Leonardo and Donatello swapped patrol nights for a solid month, with Mike, Casey, and Raphael filling in a few days. Mike needed a break from the writing (and Rosie was smothering him), adrenaline-rushed Casey couldn't sleep, and Raphael, odd as it was, snatched up the fewest days. His brothers had no idea what was going on with him, and Casey was playing dumb, or as dumb as usual but hiding something, the brothers realized. Poking in Raphael's business brewed terrible consequences so all odds were out on asking or investigating. Rather, the brothers wanted to keep a steady eye around them. It had been exactly a month since the rooftop attacker, and Casey was hoping the attacker would celebrate its anniversary.

On this Thanksgiving evening, the families gathered in the sparsely decorated Lair. Emyrs could battle another round with the sewer water if it meant enjoying time with everyone, but her only stipulation was walking _behind_ Abigail there and back to the apartment. Abigail complied but was generally concerned about her mother's peculiar cough. It was sporadic but getting worse. As always, her mother brushed it off and promised to take care of herself.

As the families seated at the enormous table (perfect for these occasions and a treasure that Mike manage to network), Casey was the first to complain over a lack of appetizers.

"You're getting a huge turkey, bonehead!" Raph growled, smacking Casey with his paper plate.

"I need my eats NOW. Do you know what I had to go through to skip work today?"

Don poured himself a glass of water. "We know all about you having to fight a turkey and that it chased you into a barbwire fence. How are you going to explain the lack of injuries?"

"I heal quickly," Casey shrugged. "That really did happen to me when I was a kid so it's not a total lie."

"Yo, Mike!" Raph crooned across the table to his brother. "Hit it big with your work yet?"

"Small paychecks here and there," responded Mike, dryly. Raphael always had to play him up at every holiday dinner. Mike was thinking about skipping Christmas at this point.

"Quit writing that mush and write something about us kicking the Foot's tails across New York!"

"Oooh, put me in there!" Casey barged in. "Raph can be my sidekick!"

"A side kick in your ugly face!" was the heated response.

Mike only simpered, shaking his head and keeping his mouth full of beverage. Raphael and Casey continued arguing until a strange set of noises and lights erupted in the Lair. Emyrs was on the far end of the table, closest to the phenomenon and was temporarily blinded as two figures stepped out of the light and sound.

"More guests!" Leonardo cheered and walked towards the light. All of the Hamatos rose from the table and greeted the two figures as the portal disappeared. An anthropomorphic rabbit and rhinoceros stood to attention; their smiles were huge and eyes glowing with happiness. The reunion was loud and hearty and it was only a few minutes later that the guests were prefaced to the only ones remaining at the table: Emyrs (caressing her face) and Abigail. Casey had gotten up earlier and retreated elsewhere, murmuring something about being called an "ape" and didn't seem pleased about it.

"Allow me to introduce our other guests," Splinter announced as he extended his hand towards the table, "They traveled from Germany: Emyrs and her daughter, Abigail. They have been renting from Miss O'Neil's basement for two months now. Abigail is currently in training. Ladies, these are our dear friends: Miyamoto Usagi and Murakami Gennosuke."

The rabbit, Usagi, dressed in graceful samurai gear bowed. Abigail returned the gesture as she pushed her body from the table and stumbled slightly. She studied her mother, who was blinking rapidly and seemed to be getting herself together. Abigail didn't want to draw attention to Emyrs.

"This is our first Thanksgiving, and it's nice to spend it with good company," she articulated.

Usagi smiled. "The accent suits you, young lady. We are happy to meet you and your mother."

"Hello, Mother!" Gennosuke barked and threw his hand heavily onto Emyrs' shoulder, causing Abigail to flinch.

"Don't scare her to death, Gen!" Raphael blurted.

Her eyesight reestablished, Emyrs quickly shuffled around to Gennosuke. She was taken back by his intimidating appearance.

"Hello to you... er, son?" she awkwardly teased and stood with Abigail. She lost a part of her footing for a second but regained her posture without too many comprising stares.

"My, my... she's a pretty one." Gennosuke whistled over to the Turtles, each one reacting from a shrug to plain exasperation.

"Yeah, Abigail is quite pretty with her poofy hair and cute nose," Emyrs cooed. "And she still has so many years ahead of her!" It was a mother's sneaky attempt way of saying 'off-limits'.

Gennosuke walked passed Emyrs, on his way to the kitchen area. "I didn't mean the daughter," his voice whispered sharply.

* * *

The turkey dinner was served hot and fresh an hour later, and the scene resembled something from a barnyard brawl. Gennosuke and Casey stabbed their utensils in the same spot and neither one would let the other pass. April finally had to use a dishtowel and slap both of them apart. The holiday was about being generous, she snarled, and how Casey and Gennosuke were failing miserably at the idea. Gen's snappy reply of "not being from this world" didn't hold any kind of meaning to April, and she threatened to serve him with the turkey if he didn't show a little respect.

The meal was very silent for ten long, agonizing, uncomfortable minutes.

"So, Elder Becker-san!" Gennosuke hollered from his end of the table to Emyrs' side. "What sites have you seen here in this city? Have you eaten a New York city hot dog?"

"One of the first things I had to do, I was told," she said, swallowing bits of food that she was in the middle of chewing. "A christening sort of ceremony."

"Usagi-san and I are here for the evening. Would you care to join me later in this fine city?"

There was an exasperated groan from Raphael's seat.

"I'm not really up to going into the city today, if you don't mind. Could we hang around here?"

Abigail smiled as she chewed her food.

"Your accent is so pretty," Gennosuke commented. "Would you mind speaking in your native tongue to me?"

"Yeah, he wants her tongue alright," Raphael grumbled and Casey choked a couple of times.

Leonardo came to save the impending disaster. "Usagi-san, what brings you here today? Usually you all visit around our Christmastime."

Usagi gently wiped his face with a napkin. "We will be unavailable to come around Christmas this year so we remembered this holiday. Tomoe Ame and her Lord sends their regards and hope all is well with you and your family."

"Come on, speeaaaaaak," babbled Gen, waving his mammoth hands.

"Gennosuke. Your table manners." Gen received a very distasteful look from his traveling companion.

Her vision was going blurry again; Emyrs turned to her daughter, slurring words, "_Wie viele Personen sind hier, Abigail_?"

Abigail glanced around the table, counting silently. "_Zehn, wenn wir uns nicht mitzählen, Mutter_.."

Gennosuke grinned widely. "Fascinating! I love hearing other languages! I wonder what they are saying?"

"That you're a big dumb oaf and to leave them alone," Raph retorted, and it even got a chuckle from Donatello (and Casey's usual outbursts).

April studied the two ladies silently, chewing small bites and feeding Shadow, who was unusually quiet. April noticed that her infant would turn and look behind herself many times. It was the same look that Emyrs had.

Beginning to look fatigued, Emyrs exasperated as she stood from the table, "_Ich fühle mich nicht gut. Bitte entschuldigt mich_," and staggered towards the bathroom.

When Abigail's eyes unglued from her mother's odd exit, she had many eyes pinned to her once she looked back at the table. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth once, closed it, and reopened again, jabbering, "I don't think the turkey agreed with her. I apologize on her behalf."

"But she never touched her turkey," Leonardo observed. "Should one of us go check on her?"

April quickly stood. "I'll do it. Casey, watch-"

"No!" Abby snapped and then realized how harsh she sounded, finishing, "No. Please. She will be okay."

April soundlessly reclaimed her seat and resumed feeding Shadow. Gennsouke gaped his arms.

"Well, what did you two say?"

"That New York was very pretty and how ...colorful you are," Abigail paused and caught glances from the family. "Colorful is a good word in her terms."

"She's very colorful herself!" he guffawed and stuffing his mouth, "I want to get to know her more. Do you think she would allow me to take her out? Money is no object!"

"_Danke, aber nein_," blurted Abigail, throwing a teasing look towards April. April returned the look.

"Then it's a date!"

"A date?" Raphael snapped. "You gotta get HER permission, rhinoface!"

"When she returns, then, Kame. Do I sense a little rivalry?"

"No! She's old enough to be my mother!" Raphael yipped. "I don't have much experience with the opposite sex but I'm pretty sure what you're doing doesn't exactly turn them on. And you're pissin' me off."

The entire table erupted in chuckles, giggles, and snorts in between chomps of turkey and mashed potatoes. Usagi ordered his friend to be silent for the rest of the meal and that no date was going to happen since they were needed back in their World on that same day.

Baby Shadow continued looking in the other direction, cooing at nothing.

* * *

_German translation help: Kunoichi Nazena from Stealthy Stories._


	16. Chapter 15 :: Dreams

_Synopsis: A pleasant Thanksgiving dinner turns a little sour, even when Usagi and Gennosuke come to visit. _

_It seems they weren't alone but only Emyrs and baby Shadow could see the invisible guest._

* * *

Splashing cold water on her perspiring skin calmed her unbalanced senses. When the confusion dulled, humiliation kicked in over her nonsense during a family gathering. She really didn't want to go back to the table. Ever. In fact, she made up her mind as she dried her face and wiped down the drippy bathroom sink: crawl outside the lair and sit in the darkness. Let all the mopey-ness drain out of her system even if it took all evening. There was no way she could face any of them at this time, especially Abigail.

She slipped out unnoticed, or thought she did; after all, a ton of ninjas and warriors alike littered the lair. If any one of them heard the gate, they could watch her and be entirely too uncomfortable while she sorted her thoughts. To each his own, Emyrs judged.

She chose a little lighted area in the short distance, dusting it off, and breathed out as her body collapsed. Emyrs had no earthly clue what happened earlier; it was all very surreal and muted. She remembered seeing an extra person walking around the table, cocky towards her but smiling down at Shadow, who appeared to have seen the same thing. All of the mess began when Usagi and Gennosuke alighted; the portal magic robbed her vision and awareness. Stepping away from the source allowed her to get back to normal.

"God, what a trip," she muttered, closing her eyes and holding her head.

Something moved in the darkness and stepped closer to her. "Hey," approached a smooth, concerned voice.

"Mike?" Emyrs asked.

"This used to be my spot, you know. To come out here and think," he reminisced and leaned on the wall next to her. The light revealed his soft features, especially his blue eyes. They were eyes that needed to be sparkling more, she always thought.

"I'll give it back, I promise," she tiredly smiled. "I'm sorry for being such a party crasher. Tonight's not my night."

"You're cool. This family has seen a lot of weird stuff. You're not the first."

A rat squeaked from the distance. "Yeah."

"But," Mike looked down at her, "When I was a teenager, I had weird dreams where people talked to me or the dreams foretold the future. Of all my brothers and me, I was the one who had the dreams. And I wasn't too concerned with anything other than comic books, video games, and riff raff."

He continued slowly with each passing sentence becoming more poignant. "The dreams stopped when I hit twenty. I've not had them for four years now; actually I can't remember any dreams at all, even when I do sleep. I got used to not having them."

She watched his face melt into a frown.

"One month ago, and I can remember it so clearly," his words intensified, "I finished a load of work by the deadline and had an enormous weight off my chest. Rosie and I curled on the bed together, and within moments, I thought my body had merged into the bed. It was one of those dreams again and I wasn't ready for it."

Mike stopped to peer around him. "It was you. Or someone who looked like you. Do you travel in dreams at all?"

"No. I have no supernatural ability."

"Back at the table, what did you see?" His face had gone completely straight.

Emyrs fell quiet and swallowed. "Someone who resembled me. A younger me. I can't remember much. She walked around the table, mouth moving but nothing coming out, and she smiled at Shadow. Her smile didn't seem vicious."

"You have no idea who she is at all?"

"I grew up as an only child, in a village of humanoid dragons, adopted by a lady dragon, and I have no brothers or sisters. None have come forth, if I have any relatives."

"Then why is she -"

"Stop," Emyrs hushed. "I wanted peace out here, Michelangelo. Can we talk about this another time when my mind isn't mush? Please?"

Mike whispered an apology and gradually traced out of the light.

"Do you mind doing me a favor?" she called out to him. He stopped.

"Tell Abigail I'm okay."

"She knows," his voice trailed off. The gate opened in the distance and closed.

She didn't want to think about their conversation at all.

* * *

The dinner ended with full bellies and many laughs two hours later. Only certain areas of the table were in entire disarrays but it wasn't too bad of a chore to clean. Abigail, April, Splinter, and Leonardo darted around the room, arduously washing and sweeping. Abigail stopped when she approached her mother's seat and untouched plate. She picked up the plate and headed to the trash.

April's hand desisted Abigail before the plate was tossed. "Wrap it up and keep it for her."

"I want to be strong for her but this last year has been rough on her. She's fighting herself more and more. I don't know what to do," young Abby confided while walking back to the kitchen with April.

"Give her the space she needs," countered April as she clutched food wrap and began sealing Emyrs' plate. "She will appreciate that much from you."

"Yes. I will." Abigail returned to the table while April watched her. Leonardo soon entered the kitchen.

"Is she okay?"

"Abigail?" April shook out of her trance. "As good as can be expected. Since her mother is out of commission, she could use support from her teachers."

Leo shrugged. "I can give her a teacher's advice, not a parent's."

"You're all she has for now. You and your brothers had each other, even though you all were too hard-headed to talk to the other."

Leonardo nodded and retrieved a wet cloth from the sink. "Training will be good for her then. We can work off that turkey and focus her energy."

April chuckled. "That'll do."

Shadow's cries echoed through the lair. April and Leonardo dashed to the living room and found Gennosuke holding the bawling baby.

"Kids love me!" he wailed over the noise. "What is the matter with you, baby monkey?"

"She's never seen anything so hideous before, Gen!" Raph roared.

"Casey!" April shrieked and used a dry towel to whip her boyfriend nearby. "Get her!"

Casey and Raphael had been laughing over the chaos; April's towel attack caught Casey in the middle of a laugh, causing him to let out a squeak. Raphael dodged April's second attack since he teased Casey's misfortune.

"Where is Usagi-san?" Gennosuke asked as he handed the baby back to Casey. "Take your offspring back. Too loud."

"Doghouse. Tonight," flared April at Casey. She stomped back to the kitchen with a whimpering Shadow.

"Doghouse?" Gennosuke innocently questioned.

"Doghouse!" Raphael exclaimed. "But we're going to the -"

Raphael caught himself when Leonardo shot him a look.

"Can't go tonight, Raphie. The doghouse ain't no fun. I'd rather be at the Cathouse!" Casey whined and caught another physical attack from Raphael.

"Shut up, bonehead!"

"What? April knows I go there!"

"But I wasn't supposed to know." Leonardo glared at Raphael, never once taking them off even when Leo spoke to Casey. "Is that where you've been, Brother? At a stripper's club? Instead of defending our family?"

"I'm not having this shit tonight," Raph fumed and stamped towards the gate. Leonardo followed behind him.

The gate slammed shut and left the occupants silent. Gennosuke conclusively peered towards Casey.

"You have a big mouth, MonkeyMan. Learn when to use it and when not to use it. Take that advice from me!"

Casey groaned. "Might have to, RhinoFace."


	17. Chapter 16 :: Untouchable Lady

_Synopsis: Emyrs rejects Mike's invitation to talk about what happened at the Thanksgiving dinner, and some of what is personally bothering Mike was revealed._

_Raphael and Casey get in trouble for going to the "Cathouse", a bar and strip club. No thanks to Casey._

* * *

"I wish you well in your endeavors," his changeless pitch said, and Usagi bowed down to her.

The last two hours gave her plenty of time to calm down and think, but as much as meeting and talking with Usagi Miyamoto was intriguing, Emyrs had an underlying guilt simmering from the disastrous encounter earlier with Mike. If only she had been feeling better when he had approached her. He probably had a lot of answers for her, and she needed his help, too.

"And yours, too, Usagi. Maybe we will meet again."

Emyrs stood, stretching her back muscles. "I never did get to eat! Serves me right."

"There was some food still left on the table fifteen minutes ago. Your daughter probably saved some for you," Usagi assured. "She will be a fine warrior someday. She has that spark about her."

"She's going to out beat me in everything. I never could do martial arts. Sports activity was okay for me, but karate or anything of that sort never held my attention."

"It is all a matter of discipline and confidence. It does not come natural to most."

Emyrs shook her numb foot. "It certainly didn't for me. Ouch, I hate the pins and needles.."

"...and furthermore, I'm old enough to do what I want!" came a crashing voice sliding through the sewer, belonging to Raphael no doubt. Emyrs and Usagi exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Leonardo's voice interrupted. "I thought you had matured. You were getting a better head on your shoulders and making wise decisions. Are you drinking again too? You already had that problem as a teenager." He held a very stern demeanor, never shaky or infuriating like the opposite, Raphael.

"Point out my flaws, like you always do. Yeah, I have a bit to drink at the place and it's just a place to escape, Leo."

"You go there almost every night."

"Two or three times a week, actually," corrected Raph, getting angrier by the moment.

"What's the matter then, Raph? Why are you going so much? You passed up patrolling the rooftops for our mystery assassin. Are you changing on us?"

"Like Mikey?" Raph snapped. "You comparing me to him now?"

Leonardo didn't respond.

Usagi leaned over to her. "Let us approach them and try to calm the situation."

"I don't usually meddle into their family affairs but I am getting hungry now," Emyrs ribbed, and when Usagi didn't return the smile, she nodded in agreement and walked forward with him.

"Leo, I got this under control, okay? I'm sorry I didn't join the little ninja party but I have my own affairs. Can you trust me for once?" blazed Raphael, trying desparately to end the arguement. "It's a holiday, for pete's sakes."

Leonardo started to answer but heard Usagi and Emyrs' footsteps.

"My friends, I am ready to go back home. Will you see us off to our world?" Usagi smiled. Emyrs remained silent and nodded.

"Sure, Usagi-san. This way," Leo softened and opened the gate.

As Usagi walked back into the lair, Leo turned to his brother and critically stated, "I'll trust you. Remember that."

The gate pounded against the floor, making Emyrs jump a little and Raphael stare a hole through it. Emyrs had tried to follow Usagi but Leo's moves were so quick and hasty that she froze. Now she was left in an awkward situation: a steaming sibling and absolutely nothing important to say to him.

"You okay?" Now his voice had softened and his golden eyes directed at her. She smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. I just had a bad moment. Sorry."

"It happens."

A couple of seconds passed, she asked him, "A really inappropriate question to ask but was there any food left before you came out here?"

"They were cleaning up. I dunno. Go see."

Talking with him reminded her of why she was hesitate to go back inside: a flirty rhinoman. If she could stealthily walk to the kitchen and peek around without Gen seeing her, she could eat in peace.

"Gen's a loud mouth but he's harmless," Raph blurted. "Don't be afraid of him."

Either he was a mind reader or she was easy to study. Emyrs felt her cheeks flush. "Sorry, I don't mean to insult your friend or anything but he's just a bit irritating. I'm not a fussy person and if he wants a date, I rather he ask privately."

"Private, he's not. Just reject him as loud as he asks you."

Emyrs smiled. "I think he might cry. He seems to be the sensitive type underneath the tough exterior."

"We tough guys can be like that. You gotta know how to talk to us."

"I don't have much experience with that. If I can't get through to you, I would think you didn't want to listen to me anyways."

"Hey," he started seriously, "You wanna get out of here and go somewhere? You worked in a bar, didn't you?"

"Yeah, for a long time," she curiously answered, and where did he want to go with her, she wondered.

"Casey got his butt in trouble. I think you could use a little social time. Come with me to the Cat."

"The Cat? I'm guessing a bar and strip club then?"

"Yeah," he mumbled and fidgeted. "I like to go there but not as a pervert or anything. I say that to my brothers but to you or April, I just go to chill."

"Uh-huh," Emyrs badgered him, "and because someone you like is there, right?"

Now it was her turn to study him and she nailed it rather quickly.

Raphael almost had a body spasm. "Yeah, yeah, I got someone. She doesn't know I'm alive probably but I like her. She's pretty."

"Pretty? I would hope she's pretty. Stripper, right?"

He let out a hard chuckle and turned to the opposite direction. "You a sharp lady!"

"She'll break your heart, lad. There's a reason they wear high heels."

He turned back to her, calming down. "You okay with going out tonight?"

"Sure," Emyrs nodded. "I need someone to watch Abby."

"Get Leo to. He ain't got nothing to do except bitch about me."

"Well, I wouldn't want Abby to listen to that all night long!" she laughed and he joined in. "I'll get it arranged somehow. But, question."

"Mm?"

"Having a lady friend with you? Won't that imply we're together? You want this chick to like you, right?"

"I didn't think about that..." his smile dropped. "See! I'm a blockhead about this stuff!"

"I'll sit away from you or something. You look like you might need pointers," she poked at the air and started for the gate. "Meet you in an hour or so back at the apartment?"

"Sure."

He watched her go back into the lair, leaving him to his yearning thoughts about the untouchable lady.

* * *

Usagi and Gennosuke were off in a hitch; Gennosuke promised to score a date with the elder Becker as he trampled into the portal. Thankfully, the magic had no effect on her mind this time. She had held her breath the entire time they exit.

Everyone said their good nights and parted ways. On their way back to the apartment and dodging everything in sight, Emyrs struck up a conversation with Mike, who was walking in front of her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier today."

"Don't worry about it," was his quick reply. She couldn't tell if he was snippy or genuine.

"Well, I felt better after some time to think and I like for us to continue the conversation. Are you busy tomorrow?"

Mike trudged along the path, dodging overheads. Emyrs barely missed them. "I would like to get a little sleep. Tomorrow evening?"

"Sure! That would be -" she cut short as she smacked her head slightly, "- great. Yeah. Are you working on anything tonight?"

There was exasperation in his voice. "I'll watch her for you."

"Huh? You-"

"I heard you and Raph. Go have some fun. Abigail will be taken care of for the night."

She couldn't respond to such a brash approval. Tripping over another obstacle, she fell behind the party and heard her daughter speak up.

"Babysitting me? Mother, where are you going? Mother?"

"Back here, Abby," Emyrs sighed and rejoined the party. "I'm just going out to have a drink with Raphael."

"Raphael? Are you going on a date with him?"

Abigail had already turned, plowed through Mike, and faced her mother.

"No! He's just.. uh.. " a spastic Emyrs began but recalled her promise to Raph about keeping his secret safe. "Casey can't go so I'm keeping him company. Will you get out of my face, please?"

"You're sick and been acting weird. I forbid you to go!"

"Guys! What's the hold up?" April, still fuming, called to the back line. "Need to get home!"

"Who is the parent here?" Emyrs' shock wore off and defended herself. "I'm okay, Abby. Please keep walking."

Her stare never left her Mother until Abigail resumed her original place in line and stomped away. "_Trink besser nicht so viel, Mutter!"_

"I can drink a little!" Emyrs shouted. "Oy! Hey! Stop walking so fast!"

Casey juggled baby Shadow in his arms and looked at April. "That's you and Shadow in twelve years, you know."

* * *

Emyrs fluffed Abigail's pillow, avoiding her daughter's nasty stare. The basement was hot with rising tempers.

"I will be back sometime in the morning and I will be safe. No, I will not drink a lot, and I will not talk to strangers."

"And no sleeping with anyone," Abby added.

Mike shifted uncomfortably in his corner chair with Rosie.

"When have I EVER slept with someone I barely knew?" Emyrs countered and threw the pillow on the bed. "You have me confused with your cousin! Don't you EVER-"

"Mother, I don't want you to go," Abby's voice pleaded. "I have a bad feeling."

"You always have a bad feeling," Emyrs' temper cooled. "Ibsen's death has done that to you. Trust in your mother."

Rosie mewed from the corner; Mike shushed her quietly.

"_Vertrau mir_." Abigail uncrossed her arms. "Can I?"

"Yes," Emyrs sighed. "Always. Have I ever let you down?"

The red frizz bounced on her head and she looked down, rubbing her mother's bed. "_Das hoffe ich doch sehr!"_

The chair squeaked when Mike released Rosie onto the floor. He smiled uncomfortably and leaned over to watch Rosie sniff around the room.

"Be good for Mike. Entertain him with your childhood stories."

"I don't have any good ones."

Mike chimed in gracefully. "I do."

Emyrs met with Abigail on the bed and hugged her. "Whenever you're sad, think of _Gremlin_."

Mike had no idea why Abigail giggled madly at the name and why Emyrs hid her face into Abigail's hair, snickering.

"Tell Mike about her, too. Your crazy grandmother. Goodnight, _meine Tochter._"

Abigail wiped her eyes as she caught a glimpse of Emyrs leaving the basement. She and Mike began telling stories of their childhood with mostly Mike telling his because Abby wanted to listen more than speak. She found his stories funnier anyways. Any of them with the Justice Force was especially entertaining.

A knock sounded on the door and Raphael appeared behind it. His clothes had been ironed and he looked rather nice, compared to his usual character (disheveled). Abigail got a little nervous, wondering why he was dressed up for just a casual outing.

"Is she getting ready upstairs?" he glanced around, with hands in his pockets.

"It hasn't been too long. She'll be back in a minute," Mike replied. Rosie rubbed on Raph's leg.

"Shoo, Rosie. I can't have cat hair on this."

"You're just going to a strip club, bro. Who are you trying to impress?"

"Is it Mother?" Abby snapped without thinking.

"Geez, calm down, kid. You act like we're about to get hitched."

Abby marched up to Raph. "Be good to her. I don't want any trouble."

Raphael scoffed and lowered his face to hers. "Watch who you're talking to, little student. I can make your life a living hell tomorrow."

"Language and manners, Raph," came a warning from Mike.

The door shoved into Raphael's backside, and he stepped aside. Emyrs slipped in and looked behind the door.

"Oh, hi! Glad you're on time. You'll make her happy if you keep that up."

Abigail, Mike, and Raphael stared at the shapely elder lady in front of them. Her black dress was quite casual but unlike her normal clothing, it showed off some of her hidden figure.

"This is not revealing at all, gawkers. You're used to seeing me in bigger clothes."

"Nice." Mike agreed.

Abigail shoved Raphael. "Have her home by midnight!"

"It's freaking ten right now! You're giving me two hours?" Raph demanded.

"One."

"Two!"

"Two-fifteen."

"Ok, two-fifteen," he agreed but quickly realized what he said. "Wait! Mini-Leo! We're adults and we'll come back when we want!"

"And I can come back on my own if he wants to stay. Two-fifteen is my curfew then, Mommy Abby," Emyrs allowed.

"Furthermore, I ain't taking your mommy on a date!" Raph childishly leaned down over Abigail. "But as good as she looks, I wouldn't say no! Shove that in your blowhole, uptight little brat."

Mike groaned. "My brother, the role model."

* * *

_German translation help: Kunoichi Nazena from Stealthy Stories._


	18. Chapter 17 :: Lost

_Synopsis: Usagi and Gennosuke leave their friends and head back to their World. _

_Because Raphael and Leonardo butted heads over Raph's nightly trips to the Cathouse, Raph decides to go and takes Emyrs with him, just as friends and to have Em for support while he has his eyes set on a certain exotic dancer._

* * *

Their stroll to the Cathouse held a few minutes of silence. Mostly, Raphael was thinking back and forth between his crush and the nice looking elder lady beside him and what to say to her. After thinking about it, he felt it was awkward to invite her along after all with him being male... and her being of the female group. He probably should have asked Donatello to come with him instead; Don had been out to the bar a handful of times and was always the designated brother, although he had not been in recent months due to focusing his attention on the traveling scientist party.

Well, they were almost at the bar, he sighed, and no turning back. She didn't look incredibly fussed or bored or happy or sad or mad or actually he didn't know what her expression read. She wasn't yelling at him and that was good enough.

Emyrs jumped in his brain. "You're sure she's working tonight? It's a holiday."

He stammered. "But she would make the most tips tonight. Mostly from me, heh."

She grinned. "And if she's good looking like you say," as she held up a paper bill, "then she might get some from me, too."

"You like women?"

"I'm not a prude. If a person does their job well, I tip them."

Raph nodded. "Gotcha."

They stopped outside the hustling bar. It was a very typical tavern, neon-sign flickering, glasses clinking inside, various male screams, but it also seemed extremely decrepit, compared to the other tavern down the street.

"We go here," Raph announced as he watched her look up and down the street. "We as in mutants, freaks, and monsters."

"Sad that America can't seem to accept its own," she muttered and followed him to the door.

Raphael nodded to the bouncer and opened the door for her. "I don't think it's better anywhere else. You're just lucky that you landed in a village full of our kind."

As she stepped inside, the noise intensified. She spoke louder, "Guess I'll stay where I belong then!"

Raphael only nodded, so she didn't think he heard her, or maybe it was because his eyes bee-lined straight for the stage. Once she followed his gaze, Emyrs caught sight of a fantastic little beauty on the structure, strutting her game. A lizard lady and looked like his type with her milky brown locks and glowing charisma. It was like she spotted him right away, too, so the elder turtle scooted to the nearest table and left the lovebirds alone.

As she made herself comfortable, Emyrs had a chance to soak in the atmosphere. Yes, bars were the same everywhere, just different personalities sipping the alcohol. Raphael was right about only mutants and other creatures frequenting this establishment. She saw maybe three humans total, and all of the men (including the humans) were gawking at the strippers. Yes, very much the same anywhere, she chuckled and summoned for the waitress.

Watching her onstage, his mind melted under the lights and heart pounded with each step her high heel connected to the floor. He had no clue if her eyes were fixed on him, either, but it always seemed like they did. It was probably all a part of her sultry act but he had to try and meet up with her. Funny how he never had taste in the opposite sex before until he and Casey stumbled onto this place a few months ago and even after seeing other female mutants. He just wasn't interested until now.

He had to talk to that lady.

His mind made up, he paraded closer to the stage and threw a couple of paper bills to her. She slithered her hand and body out to the money and slowly scooted back to the pole, her tail reaching over her head, wrapping itself around the pole as she regained a standing position. Her golden eyes were glued to him the entire time. He smiled at her and she returned the favor and put on a dynamite of a move. Another patron barked at her to come closer to him but she ignored him, even when he threw money at her, too. She was heavy into her routine by then.

Raphael continued watching her, hands in his pockets, and all grins for as long as she frolicked on that platform. The bar noises dulled and he was never aware of the other customers. It was just the two of them, him and her, the Untouchable Lady.

Across the room in her little corner table, Emyrs enjoyed watching her friend lost in infatuation and savored some bar nibbles since she still never ate her Thanksgiving dinner. It was amazing how busy the place was on a holiday night but then where else did these lonesome fellows have to go? She didn't want to get stuffed on fried foods, wasting room for a drink, and eventually pushed her plate aside to go join the bar table.

Once there, the gruff hairy bartender shot her a look like she was in the wrong place and should probably go to a ballroom with the way she was dressed.

"Just a pint of Guinness." She was ogled down hard. "Please, when you're finished wondering why I'm the only female down here."

After another few moments of a cold stare, the bartender left to get her order. She thought he would never leave.

"Where you from?" a throaty voice behind her asked and when the voice joined the counter, she was looking straight into the thick, broad chest of a rhinoman. Another one, Emyrs groaned.

"Your accent is pretty. South Dakota?"

He's gotta be kidding, she thought. "Much further, I'm afraid."

"Canada?"

"Try somewhere across the ocean."

He gawked. "The ocean? What are you doing here? Did you lose your pretty little way?"

And she knew where this was going: downhill, and fast. He wasn't all that bad looking, just rough around the edges and had already been drinking for part of the evening so his personality was lost in the liquor.

"On holiday," was her only good answer and any answer at all. The bartender returned with her glass, still never saying one word. He had to be employee of the month.

"I've never been out of this place. Born and raised around here. Take me back with you. I wanna see the Eiffel Tower!" he guffawed and slammed his fist into the counter. He stopped laughing once he received the icy stare from the bartender, too.

She nodded quickly, smiled, and dunked her lips into the glass. She had to stop consuming sooner or later and he was waiting for her to finish drinking.

"Have you seen the Eiffel Tower, miss?" the rhinoman asked and was scooting closer to her each time. Oh, god.

Emyrs had a speedy stare down with the bartender before answering, "No. I'm far from the Tower."

"Whereabouts?"

"Germany."

"Where in Germany?"

"The west," she lied and took another drink.

Forever and a day, the rhinoman continued babbling and didn't know where the hell Germany was at all. In fact, it seemed like he thought it was in the middle of Asia somewhere. She didn't want to know where he thought the Eiffel Tower was located. With each passing moment painted by his annoying loud voice, she was closer to the bottom of her glass. She didn't even catch his name, if he said his name (she didn't care), but when her drink was gone, she knew everything about him: his first bicycle ride, the first drink, the first kiss, joining a Purple Baboon or Dragon gang (didn't care which one it was), his words slurring some nonsense about a Japanese master in sharp armor, and even how his first time with sex went... which was awkward and messy. Everything she always wanted to know about a drunk man's life.

"You wanna go back to my place?"

"Not that drunk yet," she snapped and pushed her empty glass to the bartender.

Mr. Rhino placed his large hands on her leg. "How many more beers do you need, lovely? My treat."

"She's finished, you punkass," a familiar (friendly) voice spewed behind them.

"You her boyfriend?" Mr. Rhino cooed and pressed down harder on her leg.

"I don't need to be to see she's not interested in you. Scram before I mop the floor with your ugly ass," Raphael threatened.

"And kindly take your hand off the lady's leg," the bartender hissed, standing with his hands on his hips. With how dangerous he looked, his voice didn't match his appearance. It was almost too high. Must be why he never spoke to anyone.

The rhinoman obeyed and crept away from the counter. He almost slicked back into the crowd, unnoticed.

"What's with you and rhinos?" Raph joked. "I hope you never meet a Triceraton. You're going to have big trouble."

"I like the big men," she joshed and peered at the bartender. "You didn't have to break off your date. This guy had me covered."

The bartender gestured and picked up her empty glass to show it was all in a day's work.

Emyrs glanced at the stage. "Where's your girl?"

"Showtime's over for her." He sat at the counter with Em.

"And what are you doing over here?"

"I can't go back there. I don't want a run-in with the bouncers at this place."

Emyrs jumped off the stool. "Leave it to me. I'll get her number."

"Hey - wait!" He reached for her but she already tore off through the room. "When she gets thrown into the counter here, I'm not answering to her psycho daughter. Leave her on the damn doorstep or something and disappear."

Nervously facing the drink area, he wondered if Emyrs would succeed in her quest to get the phone number. He's never called a woman before, only April, and she didn't count because she was a friend. He liked this stripper chick and he was crazy for liking someone in her profession. She probably had a trillion guys after her and he was one little bozo, undressing her with his eyes two or three times a week. Undressing her. Oh, man.

"Big ass glass of the good stuff, Herb. Quick."

"Raphael!" a piercing voice cried and he turned to the sound. He was relieved to be broken from his dirty thoughts.

"Angel, what the hell," he laughed and watched the too-tall young lady run up to him. "You grew like a weed! Whatcha doing in this dump?"

"Part time job. You know, pay for college."

"Rock on, little lady, but don't let these clowns here grab you or nothing. Tell me and I'll whoop 'im."

She covered her mouth and laughed. "Stop acting like I'm a sissy. I fought purple dragons!"

"And your hair ain't purple anymore either. Black looks good on you."

"Hey!" she breathed, "why aren't you sitting with your brother over there?"

"Brother?" he paused.

"You have three others, DUH," she slapped him. "Your genius bro, Don. He's over there with a couple of guys. He's more chatty than normal, too."

Herb handed Raphael his drink, and Raphael drowned himself in it. Donatello was there. Family. Gonna find out about his crush and make his life miserable. Don't want the family to know his business. Come on, Beer. Do your thing.

"RAPH!" Don's voice shouted. Raphael continued gulping and acted like he couldn't hear. Donatello was a cool guy but mix him with a little alcohol, and for the whole night, he will never shut up. Keep drinking, Raph, keep ignoring him.

"Raphael, you should go easy with the beer," Angel leaned over him and he felt the push of her chest against him. Damn, and she grew there, too.

As he saw Donatello making his way to the counter, Emyrs was dashing back to meet with Raphael, too. He was waiting for the collision.


	19. Chapter 18 :: A Sign

_Synopsis: Raphael locks eyes with his crush, the Untouchable Lady Alisa, while she performs on stage. _

_While at the bar, Emyrs locks horn with a drunk nicknamed RhinoMan, and Raphael runs into a blossomed Angel and tipsy Donatello. The fun never ends._

* * *

Was there a chance that New York could have an earthquake and the ground swallow him at this very moment? His tipsy, gabby brother touched the counter from Raph's right side with a very wide grin, and his lady friend was quickly returning with a set of numbers that would change his life.

Both of them was making him nervous and when he gets nervous, he gets angry. Bartender Herb was giving him a very odd stare. Raphael's skin more than likely wasn't green anymore.

"Hi, Raph," Don's cool, cheeky personality crawled on the counter and filled Raph's drink. "I thought this wasn't your night. You usually come every two nights."

Raph chuckled annoyingly. "I have parents now: Mommy You and Daddy Leo?"

"No, no," smiled Don, waving his hand, "I see patterns and know you too well. Hi, Emyrs."

Raph shot around to his left, facing Em. "Well?"

Stopping short because she saw Don first, Emyrs shrugged, "She wasn't back there. I'm sorry. Hello, Donatello."

"My luck is shit," Raph mumbled and wheeled around to the counter. "Thanks anyways."

"They didn't say she was gone for the night. There is still hope," she reassured, coughed, and sat next to him. "Don, didn't think you came to a place like this."

"Every once in a blue moon," he described, leaning on the counter and watching Raph. "Met some internet buddies here tonight since they wanted to see that Alisa stripper."

"Alisa? The lizard lady?" Emyrs spluttered between increasing coughs.

"A rather attractive female. Looks feisty and looks your type, Raph." Don was staring right into his brother's soul. "Judging by the incredible look of fascination on your face when she was on stage."

"You're unbelievable," was all Raph could mutter into his glass and slamming it on the counter. "Yeah, I like her, champ. You played your little detective game."

The brothers continued their friendly rivalry with Raphael finding ways to calm down as Donatello captured the very night with his slightly alcoholic demeanor. Don wasn't trying to be obnoxious, just investigative, and Raphael finally could ignore him enough because Emyrs' coughs were getting louder and louder.

"You need air? Want me to walk you outside?" he asked and she rapidly waved her hand at him.

"I'll go, I'll go by," she coughed a lung, "by myself. Then I'll try to reach her again."

She staggered off the seat and out the door before he could object to anything. The bar patrons' voices were getting louder and Raph hoped that would give Don a signal to go back to his table. When Don didn't budge and ordered another drink, Raph groaned and wished for the magical earthquake.

"Donny, go home. You don't belong here."

He sipped from his glass. "I like to have a little fun, too, and I never get to have a drink when I come with you. I'm always the good brother."

Raph tapped his chubby fingers on the counter and waited for more jazzy commentary.

"I'm not going to tease you too much for liking a lady. That would be Mike's job, if he was a little more upbeat these days."

Releasing pent up air through his nostrils, Raph leaned on his elbow and continued listening.

"Hey, if Emyrs can't get that girl's number, I'll get it for you."

"I don't know, Don. You seem the sneaky type and the ladies have always had a thing for you. You might steal her."

"She's not my type."

Raph grinned. "I know your type."

"Hush." Don meticulously drank from his glass and his eyebrows furrowed. Raph wanted to turn the situation around but decided against it when Don's frown didn't fade. Drop the subject, knucklehead.

"I hope the old lady is alright out there," whispered Raph, more to himself.

"Don't let her hear you say that," Don quipped. "And she's just outside the door."

Raph leaned over to Don, growling. "Get ready to go home. I'm giving the both of you ten minutes."

"Now look at who's trying to be the parent," Don blurted and guzzled the last of his draft. When he tried to turn and move back to his table, he stumbled.

"Sit," Raph pointed to the counter.

"Turkey and beer really don't mix well with me," groaned Don and obeyed his brother's command. Herb handed Don a glass of water.

"Sometimes you don't always use that big noggin of yours, Donny." The two brothers shared a chuckle at Don's expense.

* * *

Filling fresh air in her lungs minimized the agonizing coughs. It was only once a year when an illness would put her on bed rest, but this year had seen two, it appeared, and right when she was on holiday. Maybe if she stayed in bed for the next day or so, she would be okay. Too much excitement and cold air was shaking her balance.

"I hate getting older," she strained and worked out the last of the coughs or hoped they were the last. When a couple of minutes passed with no fits, she sat on the bar bench and patted her face.

"Just make it home and in the bed, Em."

The music thumped inside the bar, mixed in with the patrons' roar, and it caused a stirring headache for her. The pain increased so much that she left the bench and walked a few feet away to the street corner. Probably not the safest place but quiet for now, she thought, and rubbed her temples. She hated being sick because her body always fell apart and even worse as she got older. At that moment by the street sign, she vowed to start exercising more with Abigail once they returned to their homeland.

The bad breath reached her nose first, followed by a recognizable deep voice. "Does the offer still stand?"

It was Rhinoman, and he was as drunk as ever. He towered over her on that little street corner and she stepped off the pavement quickly. Shoot, what a pickle she was in.

"Hi, and no. I'm waiting for a ride."

"I'll stand here with you." He moved closer to her and she whirled around the street sign hoping to head back to the bar. Instead, he blocked her. If only she had her gun, Em hissed in her head, and she could aim perfectly at a random body part. Instead, she saw an object near her foot and realized it was a brick. Yes, yes. Perfect for brain splattering, and thank goodness it wasn't something dumb, like a feather or soda can.

"Not necessary, please."

RhinoMan chuckled and aggressively took her hand.

She wasn't going to be able to get out of his grip and grab the brick, and her voice was getting too hoarse to shout but she could try. Damsel in distress and a tourist: not a good combination, she griped to herself, and she continued reaching for the damn brick.

RhinoMan's face was implanted into the sign before Emyrs could conjure her next thought. As he moaned and cursed, Emyrs was expecting to see a nasty-looking Raphael and/or Donatello behind him, but it was the Lizard Lady. Alisa. Still good looking. Still in high heels. And here Emyrs had just picked up the brick, ready to take one for the team.

"Next time, I will cut off your drunk tongue," Alisa condemned, "and make you crawl home on stubs. Scram."

It was no time that he tilted away, still moaning and cursing. The door bouncer glided passed Alisa and offered to help Emyrs back onto the pavement.

"Thanks," Emyrs blushed and peered at the beautiful lady, dressed in pink and white. Not one strand of hair out of place on her head, either.

"Ladies with no protection or skills shouldn't be out here. Go back inside. I don't want to rescue you again." Her golden eyes glowed under the streetlight and scared the hell out of Emyrs.

Without saying a word, Emyrs nodded and headed back to the bar.

"Wait. I wasn't finished."

Emyrs stopped on a dime.

Alisa strutted to Emyrs and handed her a small piece of paper. "You wanted this?"

"Oh, yes." She took the paper and saw what looked like telephone numbers scribbled on it. "Thanks. He will be very happy."

"I have a message for you, not for him," Alisa announced and said her next few words slowly, with passion. "_You are all I trust_."

"Huh?" Emyrs squeaked. "From you? Or someone else?"

"Someone else."

"May I have your name, then?"

"Alisa, but call me Lisa. Happy Thanksgiving."

The bouncer regained his position by the door, and Alisa coasted towards the side of the building, her long green tail waving behind her. Here, and then away. Like a ghost. Emyrs kept replaying the last few moments in her head until she lost track of time and had the bouncer ultimately giving her a withering stare to "go away, looney". Sheesh.

A gust of wind struck her face, and she noticed the door had swung open. There stood common and welcoming faces, again towering over her. Donny had a little too much to drink, she concluded.

"Ten minutes is up, young lady," Raph declared and helped Don out the door.

"Raph, I'm okay. I can walk," Don lamented. "You're blowing my buzz out of the water. I'm not drunk."

"That's the most I've ever seen you drink. Say goodnight to the fellas," directed Raphael, and while Donny turned to wave towards his friends again (who were all but passed out at their table), Raph studied the visibly concerned lady.

"You look even paler than usual, Em."

Don pointed. "What's with the brick?"

Emyrs had a surge of emotions in the pit of her stomach from frustration to shock to sadness and finally explosive anger as the brothers had been chatting away. Just as Don asked her about the brick, she swirled around and threw it into the same street sign with the Rhinoman's imprint. Bullseye.

"Feel better?" Donny asked while Raph looked bewildered.

Emyrs coughed. "I'll feel better when I get out of this cold air."

Don smiled. "It is pretty nippy out here. Take my coat."

"I couldn't-"

"Please?" He had already undressed his coat and placed it around her. "I'll be okay."

She snuggled under it and felt her shakes subside. "You won't get it back tonight, you know. This thing is like an oven."

His warm, flushed smile never left his face as they walked together down the path. Raphael was stationary next to the sign, trying to catch up with the current events, looking back and forth at the bar, the brick, and the sign.

"What in the hell just happened?" he cried at the two distant shadows.


	20. Chapter 19 :: Reunion

_Synopsis: While Raph and Don traded light hearted insults at the bar, Emyrs went outside to alleviate her oncoming illness. _

_She ran into RhinoMan who tried to take her by force, and she was saved by Alisa the dancer, who gave her a personal message from someone else. It was then time to go back home._

* * *

_Greetings, Kuma:_

_Your family made our first Thanksgiving one to remember. Are you keeping warm in this chilly air? I'm afraid that I might be coming down with an illness and am drinking tea and orange juice like a thirsty goat. Do any of your sons become like a mother hen over you when you are ill? Miss Abigail is getting on my last nerve, the poor child. Thank you for allowing her to stay at your place for a few days while I rest. She needs the time to study and focus on herself. I am finally breathing some air again since she was suffocating me._

_Be well, young man. I will beat you in a game of chess soon enough._

_Your friendly rival,_

_Emyrs "Hacking a Lung" Becker_

* * *

His fingers were not going to dial the numbers themselves, he pouted, and he needed to sound like he had some sense to his name.

"My name is Raphael, and I would like to get to know you better."

He let the words sink back in and echo in his head. 'Start from the beginning: my name is certainly Raphael and I really do like her, but I don't want to come on like a pervert or a hormonal freak. I am hormonal ... and a freak, but I ain't no pervert.'

He tried again, with more confidence. "My name is Raphael, and I've been watching you for a few weeks now. At the club." He halted.

"I mean, you work there and I saw you and you're pretty and look cool and I'm a blockhead when it comes to this stuff," Raphael rambled and slapped his hand on the phone. The same phone April has kept for many years with dirt and funky stains embedded on it. He had seen April and Casey talk on it so many times, and he had only used it a handful of those times. He never had liked the phone much and would prefer face to face, if he could.

But this is a start, he finally declared, and blockhead or not, he was going to try his best. Like Splinter always said: _The day you decide to do it is your lucky day_. Or something like that.

He picked up the phone, heard the dial tone, and stopped short. Exactly what *did* Splinter mean by that quote?

The piece of crumbled paper sat in his coat pocket, and he honestly hadn't taken a look at it yet. He was too frightened and nervous to look at it thinking that the lady was watching him. Raphael unwrinkled the paper, fidgeting, eyes bolting around the apartment, and held the receiver between his head and shoulder. Deep breaths in and out of his nostrils and chest, he studied the numbers closely. For a few seconds, he had to keep re-reading them since they were all a blur, but once his sight cleared, he hung up the receiver and was slightly relieved... but not.

Wrong number.

Back to square one.

* * *

This lovable kitty was getting on his final nerve for the day. She mewed constantly for Mike and even scratched at the door when he was trying to leave. It was terribly cold outside but he bundled her up in his coat and started the trek towards the Lair.

"Stay put in there and no more meowing," he playfully warned and checked the mailbox before leaving out the front door. While his brothers continued using the window and fire escape, he wanted a little normalcy and chose the front and back doors. Mutants and non-humans were still segregated for the most part but things were changing for the better, he could feel it coming closer. Leonardo had been harsh with Mike for not being more stealthy when entering the sewers, but Mike wasn't worried about it. It was only a few times a year that he even wanted to be down there anymore.

"Will we get a lot of snow this year, Rosie?" his breaths splitting the air. There was a small movement deep in his coat.

"You loved the snow last year... until Raphael buried you in it. Mean Raph! Claw his eyes out next time, little one."

A cushioned mew responded.

"Hang on, we're about to go down!"

He noticed his grunts were getting more verbal every time he landed hard on the ground, and poor Rosie was feeling the force. A tough, fast workout would do him some good, and maybe today he could take Don or Leo up on their offer to keep him in shape. In fact, he silently made up his mind to do some cardio each day and make sure he was never grunting when he hit the ground again. Even that was a shame to him after so many years of being in fantastic shape.

The direct route to the lair gave him a little time to remember his short list of duties. He didn't leave the water running, turned off some of the lights, checked the mailbox, and what else, Mike wandered. The thought was hanging off the tail end of his mind and he couldn't grab it.

At that moment, he paused at his old hiding spot and remembered the last thing he needed to do.

"Emyrs," he cued, "and a birthday cake."

The lair was quiet this morning and the burning incense was strong. It was such a familiar smell and always reminded him of home. On most days, that was a bad thing. Today, it comforted his drafty body.

He got carried away with his thoughts again and almost forgot to let Rosie loose, who was mewing constantly.

"Got overheated, girl?" chuckled Mike as he watched the cat nuzzle her way out of the coat. "I know who you're running to. Go ahead. I won't get mad."

Rosie darted away in Splinter's direction. Mike was only a few short steps away and heard Splinter's calm voice greet the mewling feline; he almost wished for Splinter to come and greet him, too, but the thought died quickly, and Mike hung up his coat and retreated to the training room.

Leonardo was in the middle of some intense workout, punching and kicking the air while Don and Abigail watched. Mike quietly approached the mat and exchanged waves with Don, who had seen Mike enter. After many minutes, Leo reached the end of his exercise.

Breathing rapidly, Leo turned to Abigail. "I hope you watched closely because you're next on the mat."

Abigail nodded absentmindedly, her ponytail barely moving.

He raised his voice, "You've been daydreaming all morning. If you want to train, get on the mat. If you want to stay in the clouds, don't step one foot on this mat."

An embarrassed Abby glanced at Don, who shrugged and pointed to the floor covering.

With only standing in the room for a short time with them, Mike could tell Abby's mind was more than just in the clouds. She gave a good performance, swinging her legs in the right direction, displaying stamina, gaining balance with her tail, and striking the air with all of her might. Still, Leo was going to scold her once she completed. It was something Mike had been through hundreds of times. The little lady had improved tremendously, no doubt, but there was always room for improvement in Leo's eyes. Maybe a little too much room.

When Leo vocally asked her to stop, he pointed towards the front living area. Through her brisk panting, she wiped her brow and slowly walked away, following her master's commands. When her red hair disappeared into the kitchen, Donatello spoke with sympathy.

"Her workout was good. What did you do that for, Leo?"

Mike shifted his weight and felt uncomfortable about the silence from his older brother.

"She's not here today. Don, make sure she tends to her cleaning duties and we'll try again tomorrow."

He was out of the room faster than Mike could think, and Leo never said a word to him.

Don began picking up the class weapons and stopped where Mike stood. "Sorry. He's been testy with her all morning. You missed the fun stuff."

"This place is always so cheerful," groaned Mike, helping Don put away the weapons. "Since Leo is out for the count, you mind sparring?"

Don grinned. "Now that's something I hadn't heard in a while. Where have you been?"

"I finished a third draft and submitted it. It wouldn't hurt to pretty up these pecks."

Grabbing a bo staff and handing nunchunks to Mike, Don quipped, "Welcome back."

For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, Abigail tended to her household duties. She did this every now and then and especially now since she was staying with them. All part of her training, Sensei Leo said, and as long as he wasn't snapping at her about anything, she was happy to keep to her word.

Inside her head, she was highly flustered that he had disapproved of her workout, but her chest lied. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and steadily work. No shouting, no sweating, no kicking or punching. This was peaceful and most needed.

"You're putting the bread in the sink cabinet," her sensei's sharp voice dissolved her thoughts. And sure enough, she was on her way to placing the bread in a bad spot.

"Sorry," was all she could muster and placed the bread in its correct spot.

Leonardo peered at his student. "Go take a break. I will be there shortly."

Closing her eyes and sighing to herself, she walked passed him and into the living room. Abigail was beginning to understand why there were short tempers associated with Leonardo and his very name. She chastised herself for thinking that way about her sensei, but he wasn't going to leave her alone. Do this, don't do this. Go do that. Go here. Stop there. What did he want?

The couch gave her a slice of peacefulness and even the sounds of weapons clashing in the training room were relaxing. The tween wished she could join the event, but her thoughts and her body sunk deeper into the couch. Perhaps she only needed off her legs and enjoy a small break.

"Don't get too comfortable," the sensei instructed, and her eyes and body shot up and open at the same time.

"Drink some tea."

She reached for the cup and brought it to her body. "Yes. Thank you."

"Mind if I join you?"

The tea was halfway between the cup and her mouth, and she swallowed quickly. "If you like."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes," she answered fast.

"Are you afraid to say no?"

"No."

"Say it with conviction."

"Yes."

"That wasn't with conviction."

Abigail thought she answered better this time. "Yes!"

"That sounded like it was annoyed."

"It would help if I knew what 'conviction' meant, Sensei," Abby squeaked out.

The apparent silence made her very nervous and she sipped more tea, staring at the television remote on the table in front of her. Stare at it until your eyes bleed, Abigail begged.

It had been so long since she heard laughter come from his lips that when it happened on that couch, she thought she was going to drown in her tea. Very bizarre, his sudden change.

He settled down soon, "A fixed or firmly held belief; the act of convincing is the dictionary term. Say what you mean, in other words."

"Ok, but if I say what I want to say, you might get mad?"

"Rejected, yes, but mad, no."

The tea was delicious, she suddenly realized, and he didn't seem to be as bad as a few moments ago. "Yes, I would like for you to join me."

"I would love to, but I need to join my brothers in training. Thanks, anyways," he finished and left. Abigail studied the cup of tea momentarily.

"Convinction: a fixed ...or firmly held belief; the act of convincing," she recited to herself. "And I'm convinced that my sensei can be a buttmunch."

But the tea almost made up for it. Almost.

* * *

The training room was aloft with the scent of heavy martial arts session, and the Turtle Brothers choreographed around the mat. Time had slipped away, like in their younger days, and each trusted the other to give his best shot and go all out in the sweaty room. It wasn't long before the fourth and final brother lumped together with the trio, meaning more aggressive blocking and swinging. Raphael needed to shrug off some frustration, and it was his lucky day when he saw all of his brothers chopping the air.

When it was Don and Raph's turn to battle, Don whispered as they locked arms, "You call her?"

"No!" Raph whispered back and with a lot of anger, Don noticed.

"She hung up on you?"

Raph blocked Don's attack from behind, his whispers gaining more venom. "Shut it!"

"Oh, you hung up on her?"

"Don..." snarled Raph and swung a kick towards Don's front. He swiftly dodged.

"Relax! Hang up and try again!"

Don narrowly missed a double fist and kick from his testy brother before moving on to Mike. Leo blocked Raph's second kick and a mysterious third one that came out of nowhere.

"Missed me?" Leo smirked and threw a punch.

Raph's hazel eyes glowered. "Ya, missed slamming your head on the ground."

"The feeling is mutual," sneered Leo, aiming for Raph's legs.

Leo was too easy to figure out, Raph recalled. "You found another poor creature to torment with that ego of yours, Brother."

"She's a big girl. She can handle it. You came out all right, I think."

Two swings over his head later, Raph jeered, "I got my business handled here. Told ya that you could trust me, dingbat."

"Sure," Leo gasped, lowering to the floor, "You and the Miss Becker spending a lot of time together?"

"Here we go!" yelled Raph, shoving growing disgruntlement in his offensive attacks. "I can't have a lady friend. Or any friend. Hell, I can't even get a dog without you being all in my face!"

Leonardo eluded Raphael's intrusive assaults, never touching him, and finally stepped away from the fight, holding his hands up to signal the end. "Just making an observation, my hot headed brother."

The two glared at each other, Raph still in a fighting pose with Leonardo standing firm. Straightening his clothing, Raph lost the adrenaline and turned to Mike. He and Don had been watching the show.

"You want me to get you some popcorn, fellas? Those little pieces reeses things?" mocked Raphael as he slapped Mike on the shoulder.

"Could use a refill," Mike retorted and Don chuckling behind him.

"Fill you full of knuckle-sandwiches!" Raph badgered. "Don, I dragged your drunk carcass home the other night. You still owe me!"

Donatello waved his brother off. "And how many times have I dragged yours home? I'm not worried about it."

Leonardo watched his brothers continue rough-housing and slamming jokes against the wall while he swabbed his face with a towel. Raphael caught his attention and mostly because Leo didn't want him to being too rough on Mike, who was out of practice. It was encouraging to see Raph knowing his boundaries, even in a little brotherly horseplay.

Each brother snagged a recess over two hours of cordial rivalry and conversed about movies, music, past battles, hot babes, and Splinter's soap opera dilemmas in the middle of perspiration and laughs. Their muscles screamed from the workout (most of that from Mike), and there was a deeper pain once the exercise ended. They missed each others company but it was time to go back to their routines. The cool-down gave them a shot to wrap up their conversations. Mike was the only one still in the room after fifteen minutes.

He checked the time on his watch and headed near Splinter's room. As he grabbed his coat off the hanger, he whistled for Rosie and achingly tucked himself in the heavy garment. He was going to be in pain tonight through tomorrow morning certainly, but Mike wasn't too concerned about it.

He actually had a very good time with those crazy, mule-headed brothers and was almost sad to see it end.

When Rosie never came, he silently peeked in Splinter's room and didn't see anyone in there. One turn back to the living room later and there stood his father holding Rosie. It almost made him jump.

"Thanks," Mike meekly smiled and took a very happy Rosie from Splinter. She had been waving her tail back and forth and intensely purring.

"I would like to see Rosie more," Splinter said.

Mike petted Rosie. "We can arrange that. Right, girl?"

The elder rat stood with his hands behind his back and looked gracious as ever. "And you, too, my son. Please bring your latest work for me to read next time."

"My stuff? You like romance?" Mike cut off his sentence quickly and remembered his father's pastime.

"Your soaps. I guess you do."

His father chuckled and glided into the living room. Watching his father leave, Mike wanted to stay longer but didn't want to impose. Everybody had congregated in front of the television, looking to have fun for the rest of the afternoon, but he had one last errand to run and needed to keep a promise. Mike's boots barely made any sound as he vacated the lair.

The day rolled on and so did plenty of television shows, guffaws, snacks being thrown around the room, and jokes made at Abby's expense. She encouraged them to keep laughing at her because it made the dull feeling in her head decrease. At various intervals, she would leave their company and complete her cleaning duties, but she dreaded straightening up that living room at nightfall. Despite the party being loud, it was quite cheerful, especially Raphael and Donatello's commentaries on certain shows and commercials. Whenever the television bored her (which it did often; she never liked it much anyway), she would stick her nose in a magazine and occasionally look up. Leonardo had left the room, too, which made her relax more.

When the phone rang and Don answered it nearby him, Abigail was heavy into reading so she didn't hear Don call to her a couple of times.

"Sorry!" she whispered and reached for the handset.

"It's your mother," he mouthed, "and I almost couldn't understand her."

Her heart skipping a beat, she put the handset to her head. "Hello?"

Donatello was very correct. Abby could barely hear or understand her mother through a sore throat and congested cough. Emyrs joked that it wasn't as bad as it sounded and for Abby to stop worrying.

Turning down the television volume and taking the opportunity to talk while Leo was gone, Raphael prodded Don, "The phone numbers were wrong."

"Oh, really?" Don asked coolly, taking bites of popcorn.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

In mid-munch, Don placed out his hand, "Lemme see."

Abby nodded to the phone. "See you soon, Mother."

She stood and hung up the handset. "Will one of you please take me to see Mother?"

Raphael handed the crumbled paper to Don. "Sure. I need to speak to your mom. Think she feels up to it?"

"Maybe." Her voice was barely above a whisper and she excused herself to get dressed. First, she needed to speak with Leonardo and get permission to leave.

When Abby left, Don studied the paper, his beak twitching two times: his sign of a deep thought in process.

Raphael sprung from the couch. "Whaddya think?"

Don's deep thought ended with a sarcastic glance at his brother. "It looks like a phone number; she probably scribbled it wrong or you dialed it wrong. Just be a man and go get it from the lady yourself." He wadded the paper and bounced it off Raph's knee.

"It's not me; I dialed it right! It was loopy Emyrs; she didn't get the number right!" Raph shoved the heel of his boot against the sofa and grunted, "Lemme get this mopey kid to her mommy before she cries." He grabbed a swig of soda and swerved to the coat hanger.

Abigail silently followed Raphael down the same path they all took whenever her mother traveled with them. It was a longer but safer path, and each step made her heart beat faster.

Topside was very, very chilly, and she hurried behind a stout Raphael into the alley behind April's apartment. With Mike, they always used the front door, but she enjoyed seeing the other brothers find alternate ways into the apartment. She never would have guessed some of them.

Once she entered the apartment, it felt like she had been gone for a month. April greeted them momentarily and was busy trying to stick a bottle into Shadow's mouth. Shadow was too interested in Raphael, who waved and called to her as they were passing through.

They stopped at the basement door and Raphael opened it for her. She didn't want to turn to him and say what she needed to say, but it was her mother's instructions. "I'm sorry, Raph, but may Mother and I be alone for a little bit? I'll come back for you, promise."

Raphael shrugged and agreed, closing the door behind her. Stepping down to the basement felt like it took ages, too.

Her bedside lamp flickered and she warmly greeted Abigail once the door disconnected. Abby smiled and sat next to Emyrs' bed.

"Thanks for remembering, Mother."

"Don't forget to sing happy birthday to him," her voice strained.

Confused, she followed her mother's point towards Abigail's bedside table, where a tiny birthday cake with the numbers one and two twinkled in the darkness. Her shaky voice sang the words softly and she held the cake close to her body, almost like it was her friend's spirit again.

On the last two verses of the song, Emyrs joined in. "Happy birthday, dear Ibsen. Happy birthday to you."

The cake was cut and eaten in silence. Abigail cleaned the area around her mother's bed and retrieved Raphael when Emyrs obliged.

It was only then Abigail could find a secret place to release her muted cries and tears.


	21. Chapter 19, Part 2 :: DoubleSided Coin

_Synopsis: Raphael tries to phone up Alisa with the numbers Emyrs received from Alisa, but it wasn't a telephone number after all. _

_Abigail stays with the Hamato family and between training with a strict Leonardo and being a housemaid, she doesn't have time to think about the upcoming anniversary of her best friend's death. It's a welcoming, though aggravating, circumstance._

* * *

Raphael never noticed the fifth streetlight's constant buzz before, even though he traveled down the same street under many suns and moons. It was an evening where his mind and the night fell into sync: the streetlight's broken hum, the distant sound of traffic, an object (or person) getting kicked around, and a delicate wind. The temperature nipped at his face, making him realized that he should bundled up better.

Over the night's song, his mind drifted back to April's basement and the conversation that went in a different direction.

_When I entered the room, I thought someone had died because Em and Abigail looked so sad. Me being me, I wanted to lighten up the mood._

_"Where's my birthday cake?"_

_I thought Abby was going to kill me with her plastic fork. That girl was moody. I was glad when she left me and Em alone so I could find out about those telephone numbers._

_Em didn't look so hot, though. Her eyes were glazed over, face all puffy, and her accent was even harder to understand with all the congestion. I felt bad having to keep saying "sorry, didn't understand ya" or "run that by me again" several times. She didn't seem to mind too bad._

_"Yeah, the number isn't right. Think you might have wrote it down wrong?" I asked, fidgeting._

_"Really?" she answered, bewildered. "I was so busy with everything else that I never looked at them properly. I'm sorry."_

_"Forget about it. I'll ask her later."_

_She chuckled, coughing at the tail end of it. "She's getting straight to the point, huh? You might get lucky."_

_I twitched some more. "I look like a first date-home run kinda guy, huh?"_

_"You're direct and blunt, yes."_

_"Ya know," I cut through the tension, "I'm actually shy around women. Never really been with one and all."_

_Em pulled up the covers and grinned. "Keep pursuing her, tiger. She seemed to really like you, too."_

_"I could stop being a jerkoff and just ask her, right?"_

_"Right."_

_"Take her out to dinner and go see a movie since that's what women like, I think."_

_"Up to you."_

_After she coughed forever, I wiped my sweaty palms on my legs and stood. "Get some rest. You need it."_

_"Sorry," was all she repeated, crouping, as she snuggled under the covers._

_Saturday night, I told myself as I left. Saturday night, Raphael will grow a set of balls and ask the pretty lady out._

* * *

The lovely lady staring in the mirror didn't reflect the woman brushing her locks before Showtime. She went through great lengths to look as golden and dynamite on the stage a few times a week, but her heart was always heavy. On the platform, she smiled and flirted; when backstage, her face fell as cold as the outside wind. Rarely did she exchange words with her coworkers and left the building as soon as her shift was over. Back to being the double-sided coin and the entertainer who had one assignment.

The door opened and closed swiftly. She knew who had entered without even looking in the direction.

"My shift is about to start," Alisa abruptly said and laid down her hairbrush.

The husky voice returned the sentiment. "Faster."

Alisa pushed her stool aside and slowly turned around. "This week, I promise."

Her visitor was dressed in battle robes, raven hair tied in a bun, auburn fur glistening from the mirror's spotlights, and amber eyes burning. Her presence demanded respect. "Get the bait busy. You have this week only before you are replaced."

Alisa bowed and watched her visitor return the gesture and slip out of the room.

This was her mission and she was going to see it until the end.


	22. Chapter 20 :: Day

_Synopsis: Raphael decides to confront his crush, Alisa._

_However, Alisa is on a steadfast mission and is running out of time._

* * *

"You missed out on double pay since you took off on Thanksgiving, Casey. We really could have used it.."

He guzzled down his orange juice. "I'll make it up, promise, babe."

"Promises," she sighed, throwing down a towel on the counter, "If we could make rent on your promises, we would never be behind."

Casey chuckled. "I keep to my word. We're not homeless, are we? I don't see no beggars or street signs in here!"

"That's because I keep saving your ass."

April shuffled into the bathroom and left behind a resounding echo from the door. He let the echo keep him company for a few moments.

Shadow's babble trickled from the living room sofa where she and Mike were sitting. His heart wanted to reach for his moody lady, but he turned from his seat at the counter to smile at the baby.

"Grow up big and strong and make Daddy looooots of money," he cooed at his daughter who giggled at him over Mike's shoulder. "Truckloads of it!"

"And your Uncle Mike, too," her babysitter joined in and bounced her on his shoulder.

"So then," Casey continued and picked up his daughter, lowering his voice, "your mother would never have to worry about money again. One less thing to give her a gray hair."

He kissed baby Shadow's forehead and nibbled on her fingers while she cutely laughed. As they were playing, April emerged from the bathroom with her face noticeably red and her bangs slightly damp. She took a bite out of her toast and tossed it into the trash when she realized how quickly her appetite died.

"April, I'll clean the dishes," Mike offered, avoiding eye contact from the couch.

Casey handed Shadow back to Mike and grabbed his coat. "I'll see you all tonight."

He stopped before leaving the kitchen and turned to April. "Hey, you."

She glared at him through flickering pupils.

"I love you," he pointed at her, his eyes returning the flicker, "I love you. Dry your eyes. Don't cry over me. I ain't worth it."

When Casey left, she dropped a few tears as she leaned into the kitchen sink. Mike whispered baby talk to Shadow and moving her chubby arms in a wing position to keep them busy. When he heard April calmly close the bedroom door, he hugged a squirming Shadow close to his body and gently rocked her. Before ever realizing it, he was humming to her and Mike could remember Splinter humming the same tune to him many years ago. He didn't know the name of the song or if it had any lyrics, but the soothing sound did more to calm his nerves down than the infant's. It was all going to be okay as long as he could keep holding her just like the way they were now. Never grow old, he thought, never grow old and forget me.

The morning whizzed by in a hurry, and Mike and Shadow enjoyed a lunch picnic on the living room floor. April had only left her room a couple of times and sadly smiled at Shadow before secluding herself again. Mike knew that she was one of those people that when she fell into a hole, she would soon dig herself out as soon as her head cleared. Everything was so very hard right now, for all of them.

Mike passed the ball to Shadow, who would turn her attention from the pretty colors in the television back to Uncle Mike and vice versa. The ball was passed along five times before she was sucked into the pretty colors for good.

"Mr. TV: one, Uncle Mike: zero," he teased and placed the ball into her play bag.

"Almost time for her nap, right?" a hoarse voice rang over the television's volume. Mike found a wrapped-up Emyrs getting coffee in the kitchen. She joined them in the living room, sat on the couch, and savored her beverage.

"Yep. She'll be dozing off in another thirty minutes and drooling all over her clothes."

"Thank the heavens for coffee," she offhandedly commented and waved to Shadow, who had now just noticed the special guest.

"Thought we almost had to bury you in the basement," Mike smiled and wiped Shadow's mouth. She was already drooling.

"You weren't too far from it. I even told Raphael to get a shovel."

"Raph was here? When?"

"Over this week."

"I never saw him."

Emyrs cleared her throat. "He was in and out. Hey, I appreciate you helping with Abigail and getting the cake."

"Was it her birthday?" he inquired as he watched Shadow nodding off. "I know we're all hurting for cash right now but we could have celebrated with a bigger cake and some ice cream at least."

"It wasn't her birthday. It was Ibsen's. Remember him?"

His eyes staring off in the distance and trying to recall the name, he mumbled, "The ... deceased friend?"

She nodded. "Two years now."

"Oh. You're welcome." He pulled Shadow closer to him as she finally closed her droopy eyelids.

"Gosh, I wished Abby had fallen asleep like that. She was a monster. She always thought playtime was at two in the morning and stayed up ALL day."

Mike acknowledged her and lightly swayed side to side with the snoozing infant.

Emyrs watched the two on the floor. "These are one of the best days with her. I fell asleep with mine many, many times."

"How long did you carry her?"

"Abby?"

"Yeah," he whispered and repositioned Shadow onto his lap.

"I didn't. Someone else did."

"She's adopted?"

"Yep."

"Does she know her real parents?"

"She doesn't," Emyrs began. "I found her on my back doorstep with a letter that read.."

Mike waited for her to finish the sentence, but as soon as he looked up, she was drinking from her cup and extremely lost in thought. He thought that since he had come this far in knowing her business...

"What did it say?"

She coughed and smiled like she hit the jackpot, " 'You are all I trust.' "

"Have you found out what that means?"

Emyrs stood and eventually met his gaze. "I can now."

She left the living room, washed her cup at the sink, and as she was leaving to go back to the basement, "Have a nice rest. Let's talk about that dream sometime, too."

Dusk greeted Abigail's return to the basement and her mother waiting patiently on the bed. When the tween entered, breathing heavily and poofy hair recoiling off her head, Emyrs gave her the cheekiest grin.

"I like that Leonardo guy."

"You would, Mother. And you like that Raphael character, too."

"Oh, he was your teacher today?" her voice singsonged.

"Yes. I must have pissed him off in a previous life or something."

Emyrs hopped off the bed. "Nope, only on Thanksgiving and all last week with your quick lips."

Abigail used a shirt off her bed to wipe her face and sighed deeply. "You called me?"

Her mother popped a couple of pills from one of her bottles and consumed water. "We're going back home after the holiday. Cheer up, emo kid."

Abby dried off her neck. "I didn't say I hated it here or that I hated anybody here. I hope you didn't get the wrong impression."

"I most certainly did!" she beamed.

A smile broke into her face. "It's been interesting. Everyone and everything."

Emyrs lunged clean clothes at her daughter. "Wash up, and we're preparing a nice dinner for this family tonight. It's the least we can do."

"Are you going to invite that crazy teacher of mine?"

"Which one?"

"Either!"

"Front row seats for the both of them!" Emyrs pestered. "Let me go make the call now!"

She bolted out the basement and whisked upstairs before the same pile of clothes were going to hit her. Giggling all the way up the apartment, Emyrs turned to make sure Abigail didn't follow and poked around the vacant living room. April's bedroom door was cracked slightly, and Emyrs could hear April chatting away to Shadow.

No time like the present, Emyrs picked up the phone, dialed a number off a phone card, and waited for the prompts and answer on the other end.

"Hi, Flodina? I know it's very late over there. Everything okay at home?"

She had to wait through a heavily accented voice beginning to describe everything in minuscule detail, but Emyrs waved her hand frantically.

"Flodina, I'm glad to hear everything is okay. Listen, I don't have much time to talk and will call you tomorrow. I need you to check on our bank account."

Emyrs paused and looked back to April's room.

"I talked to the bank today and they said my account has been frozen."

She wrapped the telephone cord around her finger.

"Yeah, frozen. Please find out what you can tomorrow. It's the last day we can check on it until Monday."

The door to April's bedroom creaked.

"By whatever means, don't let Abigail know should you talk to her. It's something I will discuss with her later."

Shadow's babbles could be heard more clearly.

"Yes, yes. Bank account and no talky to Abigail. Write it down or repeat it until tomorrow. I have to go. I really do thank you from the bottom of my heart. Get some sleep and feed Otto. Good night. I mean, good morning."

Emyrs breathed out as she hung up the phone and scooted to the kitchen just as April walked out of the bedroom and Abigail came from the basement.


	23. Chapter 21 :: Night

_Synopsis: The strong glue that has always binded April and Casey together is quickly melting away. They share a mutual affection for their daughter, Shadow, and she might be their only saving grace. Mike spends a huge amount of time with Shadow and is almost afraid of her growing up and forgetting him._

_Emyrs phoned her friend in Germany and asked her to check on her frozen bank account. _

* * *

He swore the clock went backwards. Time wasn't going fast enough for him.

Tap, tap, tap, his foot met with the floor. Repeating: tap, tap, tap.

What did the clock read a few moments ago? Nine forty-five? Nine-fifty? He looked at his watch for the trillionth round.

Nine-thirty? Son of a -! This watch is broken, he cursed and sighed, still tapping away on the floor.

Raphael's Saturday night plan included wooing a certain lady and maybe scoring a date with her. First, he had to calm his nerves down and smoking the rare cigarette wasn't helping at all. Donatello always reminded him that smoking would increase the current mood, not subsiding it. As he mumbled about Don being right as always, Raphael snuffed out the cigarette and rubbed his face.

This was going to be the longest night of his life. Ten o'clock was never going to get here.

_Dear Dame,_

_Michelangelo tells me that your health is better these days. I am glad to hear this. Winter catches me off-guard too, but I was fortunate last year to avoid any illness. My sons keep me very healthy and active. Yes, they can be like mother-hens, as you mentioned. They take away my treats, too._

_Let's meet up for tea soon. I will call you at the next convenience for the date and time. Have you been watching "Palace Dreams" with Ms. O'Neil? Last week's show was a cliffhanger! I am excited about what next week holds for the characters!_

_Your Abigail holds back something inside her these days. Exercising is not bringing it out. I have seen this many, many times with my sons. It is with most respect that I share this observation with you, from parent to parent._

_Be well! Darkness reigns at the foot of the lighthouse._

_With care,_

_Hamato Splinter_

"Kuma and his quotes," Emyrs chuckled. She folded the letter and placed it inside the envelope.

When the lamplight was shut off, she sat in bed thinking about Abigail and how Splinter could see it, too. She wanted to reach out to her daughter, but it was like something was eating her inside as well and preventing her for consoling Abigail. It must be a change within both of them, and the invisible wall she always tried to avoid had finally erected. And what a wild time to show up, Emyrs groaned, with everything unraveling at the seams many many miles from familiar land.

Sleep on it, she thought as her mind drifted towards slumber with the snow falling outside the walls of her temporary home. Rest cures the weak.

Ten o'clock. Showtime.

He watched the beauty make her appearance and hypnotize the audience for the longest stretches of time. It was here that time could crawl, he smiled, and never end. She was an enchantress, she was a dream, and she was staring straight at him. Raphael was sure her eyes always locked with his. Every single night he had come to this bar, she was waiting right there on that stage for him. It was a sure thing. All of it. He was going to make it happen tonight. Seal the deal.

Once she coasted backstage, he rushed in the same direction. There was usually a bouncer at the backstage door, and his heart soared once he reached the door and didn't see a bouncer in sight. Just as his hand reached for the knob, the gateway blasted wind in his face. Quickly reacting, he leap back and guarded his body. He was expecting one of the Boulder Bouncers to ram through his frame, but the door was radiant. It was glittering. It was something to stop him in his tracks.

It was her.

Raphael scratched the back of his neck, rubbing it furiously, and darting his eyes around the bar behind him. Nobody saw them. Good. He didn't plan on sharing her at all.

"Care for a drink?"

Her voice was as beautiful as she was, crisp and sultry, and he could feel his cheeks flush from embarrassment because he was gawking at her instead of answering her question. Bull-headed!

He straightened. "Yeah! Uhm, should we drink out here? All the guys might.."

"Back here. You'll be safe."

Was that a teasing smile? Inviting him to crawl to the back with her? Hang out? Drink? What else was there to do except for him to collect his jaw off the floor and meekly follow behind the blazing trail of glitter.

"She invited your dumbass to the back?" Casey roared and choked on his drink.

"Keep it down, will ya? It's three in the morning!" hissed Raphael as he closed the living room window behind him. "Put your OJ down before you choke to death."

The flabbergasted human friend took one big chug from the glass and quickly slammed it on the television. "Dude, did ya?"

Raphael stared at his motionless friend who had his hands extended from his body, waiting for the biggest news of his life. The turtle was so utterly confused.

"Did I what, you big oaf?"

"You are a yutz." Casey's hands relaxed and grabbed his glass off the television before things got too excited and an accident would happily trail behind the two rambunctious types.

Raphael threw off his coat. "Will ya listen to my story before you go assuming stupid stuff?"

"I don't want to hear it unless you got lucky."

"If you mean shaking the sheets, that didn't happen... and it probably won't happen for a good while."

Casey laughed loudly. "Man, tear it up! You're only young once!"

Halfway through unzipping his hoodie, Raph paused and looked at his friend. "Do I sense second thoughts here, Case?"

"No," came a very sharp answer from the couch. Casey grabbed a deck of cards off the coffee table and nervously shuffled them. "I'm just tellin' ya to live a little."

"You apeface!" Raph called and joined his friend on the couch. "You sound like you're eighty and your life is over. Stop acting like a wuss."

"I ain't no wuss."

"Only wusses back out of relationships. Especially good ones."

"I ain't no wuss!" he repeated with a snarl in his pitch; Casey slammed a stack of cards in Raph's direction. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Raphael took the cards. "Okay then. Wuss."

The room dissolved into silence, save only for the cards fluttering between their palms and dashing around the table. Raphael hated the awkwardness and decided to continue on with his nightly tale.

"She invited me to the back where we had a drink. I learned a little about her. She's actually really smart."

Casey's temperament changed and he wore a stoic expression. "Those dancers ain't dumb."

"I was nervous as crap the whole time. What we talked about is just now hitting my brain."

"Delayed reaction," Casey chuckled. "Women will do that to ya."

"Yeah, I nearly slipped on my own puddle of sweat on the way out."

The card dealers snickered and conjured up their own vision of Raphael acting like a fool in front of a date. Casey's brain actually imagined his reptilian friend flopping everywhere in the room, pulling a sort of comedy skit routine. Too many late nights feeding his mind full of ancient slapstick shows, Casey realized.

"Her name is Alisa?" Casey asked, dropping a card under the table.

"Yeah," Raph reminisced. "Lisa, for short."

"Liiiiiisa," Casey cooed and hit his head under the table. An expletive escaped his lips.

"That's what ya get, bonehead."

Casey rubbed the top of his head. "That coffee table is made like a military tank! Oh! Speaking of which, Raph, need your muscles tomorrow."

"Whatcha dragging out of the dumpster this time?" Raphael laid down his cards and settled back on the couch.

"No dumpster diving this time, my buddy! I'm getting a nice little extended couch thingie from a guy at work."

"A sectional, Case?"

"Yeah, one of those," chirped Casey and he looked at Raph. "Think April will like it?"

"If it's clean and doesn't smell like a million rats died on it, sure."

"Good!" he punched Raph in the knee. "I'm going to pick it up around 1 tomorrow."

"Today then?"

Casey stopped. "Yeah! Today! Shit, what time is it?"

"Three-thirty. Didn't ya hear me say it was three in the morning a while ago?"

"THREE AM? Holy sombrero cakes! I gotta get some sleep!"

Raphael sat up while Casey put the cards back together and dashed to the kitchen sink. "Hey! Before you motor off, what time does Em get up? Do you know?"

"In two hours probably. She's up with the birds and zombies."

"Cool. I'll just stay up until I hear her come upstairs then. Good night, dipstick."

Raphael thought he heard his friend blubber a retort before disappearing into the bedroom. He was certain that he heard many apologies in the bedroom followed by a whimpering baby and a sharp feminine cry.

He could now let the Night sink into his body and relive it all over again.


	24. Chapter 22 :: Checkmate

_Synopsis: It was a glorious night for Raphael - he finally met his crush in a more personal setting, and much to Casey's disappointment, all the two lovebirds did was talk. Raphael noticed Casey was avoiding the 'talk' about April and their relationship but didn't want to invade their privacy._

_Splinter and Emyrs write letters back and forth, and in his current letter, Splinter gently tells Emyrs that her daughter is holding back and to keep a close eye on her._

* * *

"Oh! Morning! Didn't see you there.."

Raphael grumbled, "Yeah, morning." He shielded his eyes from the sunlight pouring into the room. It took him a few moments to realize that he could see through Emyrs' white nightgown because of the light. He rubbed his eyes and looked in the other direction.

"Are you okay?" she asked, drinking her morning brew, oblivious at his distraction.

"Mmm," he managed to grunt out and pointed to the window. "Sun is in my eyes."

She shut the blinds up a bit. "Better?"

When he gave her a groggy thumbs-up, she plopped beside him on the sofa and noticed that she needed to cover herself up a bit more.

"Uh, sorry about flashing you so early in the morning."

"It's okay," he sleepily smiled. "I've seen much, much worse."

"I can't sleep with a ton of clothes on at night or I'll get overheated. I'll have Mr. Pillow here cover up my granny goodies. He's not covering up much anyways," she chuckled.

He smirked and leaned on his arm, trying to wake up. "I was waiting for ya anyways. I met up with her last night."

Emyrs blew into her coffee. "Was it a good meeting?"

"She, uh, invited me for a drink and we chatted so you guess."

"Good for you."

She sipped on the cooling brew and stared into the sunlight. It was a few moments before she realized he was staring at her. She shrugged in response and he waved his free hand in the air.

"Just 'good'?" Raph badgered, giving her a polite shove. "You were the one who's been rooting for me all this time. I expected a cheer or at least a SMILE."

"It's early!" she laughed. "And the coffee hasn't absorbed in my veins yet. Hold your saddle, cowboy."

Raphael pointed to the cup. "That stuff will kill you."

"And so will tagging after exotic dancers and all of the ninja riff-raff you boys do," her smile returned as a very devious sneer.

"I'll go out with a bang," he grinned while grabbing her pillow and hitting the top of her head. "Wake up. Come with me to the store. You ain't got nothing to do."

She repositioned the pillow over her gown quickly. "What's with the direct order this morning? Can I read the paper? Can I brush my teeth? Can I take a piss?"

"You have ten minutes," Raph commanded and groaned as he got on his feet and stretched. "Oh, maybe twenty because I need the bathroom first."

"Reading this city's paper will take me thirty minutes. Take your time in there."

"Twenty minutes," he repeated and left her with a pillow, lukewarm java, and agreeing with Abigail on how pushy those turtle boys can be. And she was just going to the store with him!

A half hour indeed passed through the apartment with the rest of the tenants scampering in and out of the rooms in a sleepy stupor. Emyrs was dressed (appropriately) and was still reading heavily into the newspaper when Raphael tapped on the counter to grab her attention.

"You're getting on my nerves, Romeo." She rinsed her cup at the sink and dried her hands.

"Feeling nervous. Need to get out of here," he snapped, grabbed his coat, and opened the front door for her. All at once, too.

"Okay. You look like you have a ghost trailing your butt," Emyrs sighed and donned her scarf and hat while walking to the door.

"You're rushing me to get dressed, read the paper, get on my coat... I feel like we're married."

Raphael closed the door behind them. "Naw, just lot of things going on in there right now. I feel like it's about to collapse."

"It is pretty chilly in there. April cries a lot."

"I gotta talk to her. I tried to talk to Casey but he wouldn't budge."

Emyrs grabbed the railing. "He's a knucklehead."

"Ha! Sounds funny when you say it with your accent."

"Knucklehead?" Emyrs joked and almost slipped on the sidewalk. She grabbed a nearby pole just in time.

"Too early for a little ice skating there, Em," Raph jeered and watched her cling to the pole.

"So much for helping a damsel in distress!" she cursed him and regained her balance.

He broke his laughter and put his arm around her, giving her a friendly shake. "You're a big girl! I can see where Abigail gets her whining from, though."

"Watch it! I have more venom than that pipsqueak!"

"Crazy old lady!" Raphael exclaimed and dodged an oncoming attack from his shorter friend.

She slapped him on the shoulder finally. "Where is this store, hot shot? I have things to do before the day's end."

He pointed in a random direction, at least random to her. "Almost there. And what do you have to do on a Sunday?"

The scarf was making her itchy. "Calling up a friend."

"Who?"

"You sure are very friendly this morning. Did your lady give you a kiss or something last night?"

"I feel comfortable with ya. You're not like other old - older people." He didn't even need to look in her direction to feel the heat from her glare.

"I mean that in the best possible way! You're a cooler older lady."

"You just keep digging that hole, boy. I won't help you out of it."

Raphael grabbed her arm and brought her close to him. She nearly tripped again and peered at him wondering what in the world was he planning to do with her arm.

"We're here," he announced. "You kept walking even when I stopped."

Emyrs had to smooth out her clothing that had wrinkled up when he yanked her away. Men his age sure don't know how to be gentle at all.

Raphael walked ahead of her and sniffed around the store. Emyrs didn't need anything in particular and glanced at the chocolate aisle, remarking how there wasn't a variety of sweets. She caught the two store employees watching her and then whispering to one another; she had to remember that the land she was vacationing in wasn't exactly as tolerable of her race as her own country. Not to cause any skepticism, she walked away from the aisle and read the paper on the rack. Surely they wouldn't think she could hold up the store with a newspaper or a chocolate bar.

Emyrs was heavily engaged into the paper again, but a slap on her shoulder from Raphael shocked her right out of the print. He chuckled again and she nearly rolled up the newspaper to knock him out (and she could with a New York City edition) but followed him to the counter since the employees looked absolutely ruthless.

"Hey, ladies," Raph greeted and they nodded but focused their attention on her.

"Can you put this stuff on my charge account?"

The cashier flashed, "Yeah, but you have an outstanding bill already. You need to pay next time."

Raphael frowned. "Really? Could've sworn I paid it last time." He motioned for them to charge it.

"It's been a while. I can't remember," he scoffed, and they watched the cashier complete the transaction.

"Thanks, ladies. Say hey to Rick for me, will ya?"

He walked outside the building while Emyrs stayed behind. The two workers gave her a very withering stare.

"How much is it?" she asked them.

"How much is what?" the second employee piped up.

"His bill. I'll pay it."

The two girls exchanged looks, wondering if they should oblige, and the cashier pulled out a notebook.

"Fifty dollars."

"Here." Emyrs handed the money over the counter, and the cashier gently took it from her, obviously very afraid to touch Emyrs' hand.

"He's good now. Thank you," the bleached-hair cashier said without even looking up.

Emyrs peered outside and saw Raphael giving her a confused look, but she wasn't going to leave just yet.

"I would like a receipt, please."

From the way they were gawking at her, she had apparently asked for a million dollars and their firstborns. The femme turtle wasn't going to budge until she saw a receipt completed and handed to her, and that's just what she got after a few awkward moments. She left the store like lightning.

"What in the world was that?" Raphael asked her, munching on beef jerky. "You didn't get anything."

"You should always ask for a receipt, you dope."

"Huh?" He whisked after his speedy friend and almost dropped his sack of goods.

"Those girls have been scamming you, my boneheaded friend. Taking your money and still charging to your account. Ask for a receipt. Everywhere you go."

"No, no, those chicks are cool! Wait! Slow down!"

She stopped and turned around, her breaths escalating. "I know this is all new for you and the other non-humans over here. You shouldn't just trust anyone."

"Did you just pay my bill?"

His tone was very sharp and his eyes sharper. She hesitated.

"Yes, I did, and I have your receipt. Your account is clear."

"I don't need your help! Don't come over here and think you're high and mighty above us, alright?"

She looked around at all of the snow on the ground, not noticing how pretty it glistened in the sunlight. His reaction was something she certainly didn't expect. Splinter had mentioned his son's wide spectrum of emotions, but she thought since they had been hanging out and laughing that his anger had been something of the past and a part of his teenage youth. It had been so long since she had seen or had an outburst like that herself.

His expression eventually softened. "I have other friends, too. I trust them. I have to trust them."

She remained quiet but pushed the receipt into his coat pocket.

"Thanks anyways," he mumbled.

The majority of their walk back to the apartment was in absolute silence. Emyrs let him talk a little about his date and she smiled, nodded in agreement, and held on to the railing when going back into the building.

He bidded her farewell on the steps and apologized again. He waited on her to respond.

"Guess I'm not a cool old person anymore, huh?" was her cheeky response.

"You only lost a couple of points. See you later."

She watched him slosh his way through the snow and down the alleyway.

"Be careful, kid."

Approaching noon on that Sunday, April paused quickly as she walked out of her bedroom, tying her damp hair in a ponytail.

"Master Splinter! Hi," she chirped. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You are not supposed to hear me come in, Ms. O'Neil," the elder rat teased and moved a chair next to the fold-up table. "Ms. Becker and I are going to spend a little time together and catch up on news. She will be leaving us soon."

She patted her ponytail. "Really? When?"

"After the holidays. I guess she hasn't informed you yet?"

"No, but then I've been so busy," her voice and attention trailed off. Splinter turned back to look at his suddenly distant friend.

"The baby? I hope Michelangelo has been helping you like he promised."

"Oh! Yes, he has! That's not it at all!" April blubbered and folded her arms. "Make yourself comfortable. Casey disappeared somewhere and Shadow and I are going to see Irma for the afternoon. Have fun! It was good to see you."

"And always a pleasure to see you, Ms. O'Neil. Stay safe."

Splinter pushed a second chair up to the table and watched April and Shadow eventually make their way to the door. April had her hands completely full with Shadow, the infant's bag, and her purse. She gave the sensei a small smile before opening the door and leaving. Once the door closed, he pondered on their conversation, swishing his tail behind him.

A second door squeaked open, the basement one, and out glided a big, smiling friend. Emyrs was dressed in earthy-toned, light winter clothing, plumped cheeks, and sparkling eyes.

"My opponent looks dashing. This old rat may not win the game today staring at such a cheerful face."

Emyrs shook her head with a small giggle. "I got a nap after being wrestled and shot out to the cold by your son this morning."

"I do apologize for how rough he can be. He doesn't know his limits and boundaries yet."

She joined him at the table. "It was actually a revealing experience. I'm afraid he is trusting the wrong people."

Splinter nodded and motioned for her to sit in a chair. "Have a seat. We have plenty of time to discuss our children."

"Are you sure? I have a few days worth of material about Abby," Emyrs joked and waited as Splinter pulled up her chair before she sat down. "Thanks."

He slowly unpacked his recycled square board and chipped pieces. She had viewed the routine quite a few times, but Splinter presented it almost like a ceremonial event. He was very meticulous and gentle with everything he handled.

"Kuma, was that a sniffle I heard?"

"A little," he said off-handed. "I will be fine, but please don't tell my sons. I will be nursed to death."

"Is Abigail doing a little better? I did talk with her two days ago when she came for dinner."

"Her energy has perked, and Leonardo is using it to his advantage. He will keep her mind occupied with much training."

"Well," Emyrs adjusted in her chair, "I believe I will end her training and have her spend our final time here together. You and your sons have been great teachers. Thank you again."

"We will need to have a going-away party for you."

"Not necessary, Kuma. Saying good bye and exchanging hugs will be fine. We came in silently and we'll leave like that, too."

"Very ninja-like," he cackled. "We need to celebrate the holidays together again."

"Christmas is always so busy for me," she sighed and assigned her chess pieces on the board.

He smiled. "Your birthday, also."

She discontinued her set-up to stare at him. "Are you psychic?"

"I have a little duckling."

"A little duckling named Abigail," she finished, "who quacks too much."

They giggled together, and Splinter completed his base. "Would you like tea? Soup? I brought both of them in thermal bottles."

"You know the way into an old lady's heart: a quiet afternoon and food. I'll take the soup if you don't mind."

An hour glazed through the apartment, and their quiet game (excluding Emyrs' cute outbursts) halted once the front door bolted open (making even Splinter jump a little) and an avalanche of very loud, very rowdy voices.

Emyrs recognized two of the exclamations, belonging to Raphael and Casey, but the third one was a mystery. She looked over at her chess partner but Splinter was nowhere to be seen. He wasted no time!

"Emmy!" Casey cried. "Raphie here was just talking about you and your ice skating adventure this morning. I nearly bust a gut laughing!"

Emyrs grinned and saw Raphael give her a meek wave. She returned the gesture.

"Oh, and this is Matt. He's helping me and Raph out with the sectional and hanging out with us."

"Hello, Matt," she nodded and noticed how very attractive the human boy was. She almost whistled out loud. The pretty boy guest tipped his baseball hat.

"Whatcha doin' there by yourself?" Casey pointed. Confused at first, she looked at the scattered chess pieces and opened thermal bottles, wondering how to explain that she was playing chess by herself apparently.

"Chess," she shrugged and turned back to her soup.

Casey persisted. "By yourself? Isn't it supposed to be with two people?"

Raphael jabbed his friend's ribs and whispered, "Splinter and new folks, Case."

Casey made a grumbling "oohhh" and returned his focus to the moving task. Emyrs watched all three clear the living room, almost knocking down the television, and then make a complete massacre of a moving team. She decided not to help once she witnessed Casey being crushed between a sectional piece and the door frame... on countless times.

The clowns all cursed and bickered at one another, at the couch, the wall, a roach, Life, and an ex-girlfriend was thrown in the mix. This is how men discussed their problems, Emyrs concluded, through doing work and smashing their skulls into the wall. It was a sight to see, and she was laughing to herself the full time.

"I'm-a move this old sofa into the basement. You cool with that, Em? I ain't got nowhere else to put it," Casey huffed and rubbed his skull.

"It's your home, Mr. Jones."

She caught Matt smiling at her, and once the sectional was organized, he joined her at the table.

"You like chess then? It's a good game."

Emyrs adjusted her shirt automatically (a woman thing). "I do. And it's better when you have a non-cheating opponent."

"It's hard to cheat at chess, you know," Matt's pretty grin twinkled.

"Look at her," Raphael mumbled. "Grinning and shit. Her eyes are about to melt out of her head."

"Matt gets all the ladies. The ones at the store would rape him on the shop floor if they could," Casey commented as he chugged down water.

Raph frowned and threw himself on the sectional. His back would be turned from the love fest and he couldn't puke from the sight of it.

"Comfortable?" Casey grinned. "I like it!"

He also lunged himself on the far end of the couch. "I'm pretty proud of this find!"

"You can't be that old!" Matt laughed. "You're very young-looking for your age."

If Raphael could sink into the couch even more, he would have at that moment. The laughing and giggling was so fake, so choppy, so suave, and so not like him at all. He couldn't be that smooth.

Casey noticed his friend's discomfort. "Let's grab some beer and watch hockey! How about it, Raphie?"

"Bring it on."

"Don't pout! You have a fine looking woman. That Alista chick."

"Alissa," Raph mumbled. "And I'm not pouting. I don't want Em being tangled up in his little web. I know how pretty boys like him are."

Casey guffawed but stopped when he noticed Emyrs peering at them behind the couch. Matt had apparently left the room and she had heard the whole conversation. Instead of coming to her own defense, she shrugged and shuffled back to the table.

Emyrs packed up the chess pieces and thermal bottles. "I'll move into the basement and resume our chess game. Have a nice time, knuckleheads."

Casey bidded her goodbye as the basement door closed. Matt returned from his business, and the beer and screams were passed around for the afternoon game. Everything else was static for the day.

"CHECKMATE!"

Splinter had to back up from the joyous occasion. The exclamation pierced his sensitive ears.

"Sorry, sorry," Emyrs stuttered, covering her mouth and giggling from the excitement. "I finally won!"

"Congratulations," he warmly smiled and sipped tea from his cup. "I didn't even have to let you win this time, too."

"Shush, young one!" she waved and gloated over the board. "I am the queen of this game!"

He continued smiling and drinking his tea until he heard footsteps in the distance.

"Company," Splinter sharply whispered. Emyrs left the table and cautiously opened the door.

Raphael was about to knock on the door when it cracked. He looked a little flushed and smelled like it, too, Emyrs added.

"Hey. I was a blockhead earlier and acted stupid."

"That's all the time, my son," Splinter's voice crawled from the room.

"Can we talk alone?" Raph groaned.

Emyrs tried to stifle her giggles and walked up the stairs behind her crabby, dazed pal.

"Laugh at me if you need to. He's right, I know it."

Emyrs patted him on the shoulder. "Shush. What did you want? I have a victory to celebrate downstairs."

"Don't go out with that guy."

She studied him momentarily while he looked in all directions except at hers.

"Go out with who?"

"Twinkles in the living room."

She had to laugh at that one. "Twinkles? Matt, you mean?"

"Matt Twinkly Chump. Avoid him."

"He didn't ask me out. Not to my knowledge anyways."

Raphael groaned, rubbed his neck and opened the basement door. He was very uncomfortable with the discussion in his state.

"Okay, I'll avoid Twinkletrousers in there. Is that all you wish to say?" She stood in the doorway, holding the knob.

"No," he shrugged and didn't meet her gaze. "I'm going to see Lisa a lot this week, and I heard you're leaving soon. Wanna chill after Twinklepuss leaves?"

"You and Casey going to play drunk poker?" she grinned.

"He's pretty slammed right now and I'm getting that way. More than likely will be."

She winked. "I wouldn't miss a Game Night, my friend."


	25. Chapter 23 :: Everything

_Synopsis: In this 'new' world, Raphael is too trusting of average citizens but he wants to trust and adapt. It's the new way to survive and to finally live._

_Splinter joins Emyrs for an afternoon of chess, soup, and chatting about their children. It's briefly interrupted by Casey, Raphael, and a cute acquaintance named Matt and their quest to shove furniture into the apartment. By the evening's end, troubling circumstances earlier in the day are resolved._

* * *

He didn't need to work on that new manuscript anyways, not with the pretty snow falling outside his window and glittering from the street lights. With Rosie curled up on his lap and the muted sounds of laughter and yelps from the front room, too much was distracting him and after many attempts, Mike gave up, turned off the lamplight, leaned back in his chair, petted the snoozing kitty, and watched the flurries until he hovered into a dreamy mist.

Time escaped the evening and hundreds of snowflakes whistled from the sky. His bloodshot eyes met with reality again, and he watched the snow again for a few moments. Mike's subdued blues followed the snow's performance from the window to a dark figure quietly sitting on his desk. He didn't jump, the figure didn't move, and Rosie wasn't bothered at all, still sleeping on his lap. Blinking was the only movement he made.

The figure's blazing chestnut pupils bore into his body. He couldn't see what the person's expression was but its eyes were intense, incredibly passionate. When a few more snowflakes fell outside, he decided it was time to talk to his unexpected guest and take a stab in the dark on who it was.

Mike cleared his throat, holding his voice down, "You again?"

"Me again."

"And your business?"

There was a rustle on his desk; the figure must have moved. "My business is with another. You are a dreamseer, a rare one in this part of the country, and I thought I would say hello."

Her accent was extremely thick and sounded very Eastern, around Asia, maybe Chinese? Korean? He couldn't decipher it. Her eyes softened up a bit, too.

"I appreciate it if you wouldn't scare me like this."

"I apologize. You have a pretty kitty."

He looked down at the slumbering Rosie. "This doesn't feel like a dream, though, Ms. Mysterious."

She whipped something behind her. "It is but is not."

"Oookay," Mike sighed and shuffled in his seat. Rosie finally stirred, stretched (clicking a few joints), and regained her warm spot back on Mike's lap.

"Look out the window," the guest directed and Mike saw her outstretched arm. "You are in a state of suspended motion. The snowflakes falling are the same over and over. Can you see them?"

"Uh, no, not really. My eyesight isn't that good." Who in the world could see a snowflake's pattern from that distance, he wondered.

"Then look elsewhere."

He cautiously left his chair and leaned over the desk. On the street below, Mike watched pedestrians meandering and thought nothing of it. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary until a white cat that had crossed the street, crossed again, and not from the opposite side. The cat, the pedestrians, the vehicles, even the random flickers from the street lights... they all repeated. It was very surreal.

"You see now?" the crispy voice asked.

Being next to the window now, he could make out the figure more. She wore a long, light blue cape that covered most of what appeared to be a shell.

"This is creepy," he muttered and sat back down in the chair. "But great writing material, at least."

The figure hit the floor. "I should warn you that things might get messy. I am here to retrieve my child."

"Your child?"

"Abigail Becker."

Mike leaned on his left arm. "I think she's very happy with her adopted mother. Shouldn't you at least just visit?"

"No. It is time for Abigail to come home with me."

"Wait a minute..." Mike whispered and whisked across his desk to turn on the light. It revealed a very pretty, very young female turtle. She wore a stiff expression and her eyes were fierce.

"I thought you sounded a little too young to have a twelve year old daughter. Who are you?"

"I have no business with you."

"Then leave," Mike hissed, "and don't disturb the Beckers. You don't just go around and tear families apart."

The guest glared at Mike and calmly walked out his door.

"No last words? No threats?" he mocked. "You're not a good villain if you don't make a flashy exit."

She continued walking and slowly dissipated. "At the center of your being, you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want."

He jumped out of the element, into the darkness with the light from the window, the snow, the muffled laughter from the next room, and an empty lap. Mike repeated her last words over and over until he scribbled it down on a piece of paper. It all stuck to his mind like the snow outside through daybreak. Rosie cried under the desk and was brought back to her master's warm lap.

Several mighty knocks on the bedroom door shook him out of his slumber. He groggily put Rosie on the floor and stood from the chair, giving his back a nice stretch and pop. The knocks continued on and increasingly pinched his nerves.

"Yeah?" Mike's voice cracked. "Say the magic word."

"Open the fucking door, Mike. I ain't playing."

He didn't need a good morning, anyways, not with a grouchy brother on the other side of the frame.

"Can you..." Mike started as he opened the door, "...go harass somebody else this early?"

Raphael looked absolutely horrible. "I got a hangover and I have a ballistic Casey on my hands. Will ya get off your sloppy toosh and help me for once?"

"Your morning face would kill a child."

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet, Mommy," Raph mocked and stepped out of the way.

"What is it with Casey? What did he do?"

"Not him," Raphael started. "April."

First thought that came to Mike's mind was his dear friend and the possibility of danger.

"Don't go Casey on me, Mike," Raph's hand went up to mentally stop Mike's derailing train of thought. "April is fine but she didn't come home. She's left with the baby."

This wasn't something new to Mike; he knew for a long time that April was growing weary of the household situation. No money, no time, and no smiles except those that came from Shadow or because of Shadow. He didn't know what hurt more: his friends' relationship collapsing or that he wouldn't be able to see Shadow much anymore. Both killed his heart.

"I know what you're thinking, Bro. It's all been running through my head. And you all think that I'm selfish but I ain't. I can't stand to see this," Raph rambled. His hands were twitching, and he rubbed the back of his head numerous times.

Mike stared at the floor for several seconds, lost in trance. His mind flying back and forth from maybe having to move out, to finding ways to see Shadow, to adjusting his schedule, to consoling his friends. They were racing so fast that he had to take a breath in real life and slow it all down. A tiny ball of fur scooted next to his leg and prevented a possible outburst.

Raphael looked up. "I tried to stop Casey but he ran out the door. Actually, almost THROUGH the door, like a meathead. I'm surprised you never woke up from all the commotion."

Mike nuzzled Rosie in his arms and held her tight. She squirmed slightly.

"I want you to come with me later. Let's talk to April. Yakking with that mad man won't work right now. She likes you a lot," Raph chattered on, stammering between sentences and very distraught. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid, Mikey. Mike, Mike, I'm sorry. I called you your old name and-"

"It's okay," Mike said softly. "It doesn't matter today."

"Are you guys hungry?" Emyrs talked low and appeared from the restroom. "Can't do all of this on an empty stomach."

"Food is the last thing on my mind, honey," Raph softly sighed. "But I can't do this alone. Mike, say you'll come with me. Don't make me drag you. I need you. Casey needs you. April needs-"

Rosie squeaked; Mike lifted his head from the cat's body. "I'll go with you. Eat first."

A nervous Raphael nodded and fixed his gaze on the cluttered coffee table full of empty beer bottles and food wrappers. He never left that position until Emyrs completed cooking and passed around the plates.

"Do you guys know where this Irma lives?" Emyrs inquired and sipped coffee.

Mike grinned. "Unfortunately."

He and Raphael chuckled sparingly.

She set down her mug on the counter. "Good or bad thing?"

"You're female so you'll be okay," Raph mumbled through bits of bacon and egg in his mouth.

"And she allows non-humans into her home?"

Mike traded dodgy looks with his brother. "Maybe a little too much. She's cool though."

"Ah," Emyrs scoffed. "I understand now. Eat up and we'll go whenever you're ready."

"We?" Raph stopped pigging for a moment. "You're going, too?"

"Another female might help the situation. I've lived with them for almost three months. I feel like I need to help."

She watched the two brothers eat in silence.

"Is that a problem? Speak up."

"No, no," Mike quipped. "You've just, uh, you seem like you were careful not to get involved with anything."

She tapped on the counter. "It wasn't any of my business."

"What's changed?" answered Mike, without hesitation.

"Everything," she added and she disappeared downstairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike noticed Raphael staring hard at the basement door for some time, chewing away at his breakfast. Leave him to his thoughts, Mike, he cogitated and continued eating a very delicious meal with Rosie pawing at his ankles.


	26. Chapter 24 :: The Last Tune

_Synopsis: On a snowy night when he couldn't concentrate on his writing, Mike and Rosie were visited by a special guest. Time was suspended in her presence, and she desires her child back - the Abigail Becker. Mike was not amused and sternly told the guest not to meddle in others' affairs and break families apart._

_And if things weren't already cheerful enough, Raphael dragged Mike out of his room and broke the news that April and Shadow have left Casey and moved in with their mutual friend, Irma._

* * *

Leonardo eyed his brother cautiously.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do this, Don?"

Donatello smoothed his black outfit, tightened his gloves, and secured his weapons. "I'm just as skilled at this stealth business as the rest of you," he said with a smile.

"Yes, you are, probably even better, but I would rather take this mission alone."

"Leonardo," Don began and held the mask close to his face, "You take charge too much. This is the absolute best time to find out what's going on, and I'm on their heels. I will be fine. Keep your eyes on the signal."

His brother didn't seem convinced, but Donatello shoved on the mask and gave a quick nod before whistling out of the alley.

Once Donatello was out of sight, Leonardo ascended the building in the alleyway's interior. His feet and hands lightly touched the walls as he bounced on a railing midway up the structure. There was too much light for him to stay on the rooftop so he needed a safe spot to watch for the next phase of action. He would faithfully wait in this bitter wind.

* * *

Breakfast was over too soon for the Hamato brothers, and they arose from their chairs with sullen looks. It was going to be a long day full of emotional chaos.

"Should we wait for Emyrs? Thought she was coming," Mike asked while putting on his scarf.

"She better hurry up," Raphael snapped. "I already want to be there and she held us up with this food."

"It was good food, you gotta admit," claimed Mike with a crooked smile.

Raphael threw on his ragged tuque, mumbled, and stole a piece of bacon from Mike's plate.

Rosie signaled from the floor for Mike, and he bent down to pet her.

"Be good and guard the house like a good ninja kitty."

"That cat is scared of her own tail, Mikey," Raph groaned. "And I'm giving Em another minute before I go adios."

Mike stood and rolled his eyes. "Go on ahead then. We'll be there when we can."

"No, no, I'll just wait for you and Slowpoke."

"Actually I'm not going."

They turned and saw Emyrs standing in front of them. She had one hand on the basement doorknob.

"Go on and do your business. I'll be here when you get back."

"Chickening out on us?" Raph cracked, but when she didn't smile back, he quickly lost his jolly.

"I have an important phone call from home. Be safe."

She closed the door behind her.

Mike scratched his head. "Will she be okay?"

"Whatever," Raphael muttered. "Let's get this show on the road. I just hope Casey hasn't done something stupid."

"You can count on that," Mike reassured and smiled down at Rosie as he closed the front door behind him.

Snow and ice crushed beneath their boots on the beeline path to Irma's apartment complex two blocks away. They nestled under their scarves and didn't speak much to each other. The wind was sharp and snapped at any exposed skin. Although they didn't care much for seeing April's friend, they really wanted to get somewhere warm and get there quick.

Each brother was reluctant to push the call button, and Raphael was the instigator, at last. He tapped his boots on the crunchy pavement and was making Michelangelo nervous. Raph mumbled under his breath and did all sorts of rapid movements. He was clearly as nervous as Mike was about the intervention.

"Casey, she doesn't want to see you right now. Quit making the situation worse!" Irma's shrilly voice flared through the speaker.

"Uh," Raphael started, "it's Raph and Mike. Can we see her?"

Irma didn't waste a moment. "Hey, cuties! Come on up! I'll get some coffee ready!"

Mike and Raph thought they heard a squeal before the speaker went silent, and the buzzer sounded before they could discuss the matter. As Raphael opened the door, both brothers felt like they were walking into the darkest dungeon and that their lives were at a severe risk.

"She's hugging you first," Raph pointed at Mike. "I ain't getting raped in there."

"What makes you think I want to?"

"Take it like a man, Mike!" chuckled Raph, his first real smile all day.

Mike adjusted his scarf. "She's always had a thing for you or Don, and since Don isn't here, you're next."

Their boots stopped in front of Irma's flamboyantly purple door. The only purple door in the mix of dull grays and browns. Completely tacky, completely out of place. Very Irma-like.

"You knock!" Raph snapped. "I rang the bell."

"Scaredy-cat," Mike sighed and knocked quickly.

After Mike's knock, they had about a second to breathe before they were pulled into the apartment by a zippy arm. The purple door sounded like more a dungeon's door slamming into the wall.

"Coffee will be ready in a moment!" Irma hummed and ripped the Turtles' coats and scarves off their bodies.

"I've never hit a non-violent woman in my life," Raph warned, "but I will twist her arm if she touches me again."

Mike waved at his brother. "Calm down. She's just very friendly, dude."

Irma's apartment was very... flashy, to say the least. Lots of shiny trinkets and knick-knacks, thrift store steals, all colors of the rainbow, and mirrors everywhere. That was just the front room, too. A baby gate guarded the first door, and beyond the gate, the house looked relatively normal, or as normal as you could get for a lady with her tastes.

"Raphael, have you been working out?" Irma flirted from the kitchen. Raphael rolled his eyes until they were almost out of his skull.

"Yeah. Me and my brothers stay in shape, Irma. Like always."

"Can I come watch sometime?"

"No, you may not."

"Raph!" Mike hissed. "You're in her home!"

"I'm coming one day whether you like it or not, Raphael," Irma chirped as she held up the coffee cups over the baby gate. "Come in here and make yourselves comfortable."

Mike dragged Raphael over the baby gate, and they sat at the kitchen table. Mike was sure to get the head of the table, much to Raphael's disappointment. Both he and Mike knew what was coming next. It happened all the time when they visited Irma.

She patted the seat next to her. "Sit by me, Raph! I won't bite!"

"I'm going to bust your skull, Mikey!" Raph sharply whispered with Mike grinning a mile wide.

"Get your fine self over here. You found a girlfriend yet?"

Raphael lit up; this was his opportunity! "Yeah! And she's one hot chick. My type. I'm no longer on the market."

"I wanna see her! Let's have a double date!"

"Irma, where's your kid?" Mike broke the disastrous conversation.

Irma sipped her coffee and fell serious. "At his Nana's."

"How is he doing? With his blood transfusions?"

"One day at a time for him, Mike. He's still a happy little boy despite all the setbacks."

He took a moment to study the perky lady; the days had not been kind to her, and she wore her troubles on her flushed face. Her brown hair was no longer shiny and bouncy but lifeless and messy. Mike remembered that Irma's son was a half mutant and conceived through extremely unfortunate circumstances. In fact, it was a big surprise to have found out that her son was a half mutant turtle. His family tried to locate the mutant but it seemed like the mutant knew how to hide as well as themselves or that he was a nomad. Irma's fascination and interest in mutants placed herself in grave dangers many times, and this one finally snatched her. Her son was nearly dead at birth and although he survived, he now has many blood transfusions and medical tests.

Irma may be incredibly annoying and flirtatious, but she was very kind to April and the Hamato family and one was of the first humans to accept them before the government even recognized them as citizens. Mike couldn't be mean to her after knowing her tribulations.

Raphael, on the other hand, always had to be the sore thumb.

"Irma, where's April? I'm kinda in a hurry this morning. We need to talk to her about all of this."

"You actually have a hangover, don't you?" Irma quipped. "And I smell a woman on you!"

Raphael ignored her and guzzled down the hot beverage. Mike was wondering why Raphael wasn't hurting from drinking the coffee too fast.

Irma reached over and pinched him on the arm. "You're so cute!"

Raph slammed the cup on the table and wiped his mouth furiously. "April, Irma. APRIL."

"What is it, Raphael?" a hoarse voice dripped behind them. She looked generally okay but it was clear that she was on her last ounce of strength.

Raph turned around in his chair, holding it and the table nervously. "April... listen, can we talk to you?"

"Walk with me," she stated and zipped up her coat.

* * *

With a heavy sigh and her checkbook closed, Emyrs hung up the phone's receiver and looked around the basement. Matters were bad, if not worse, and there was nothing she could do until she returned home. Thankfully, she had enough hard cash to make do until they boarded the plan after the new year; however, there wasn't much room for errors and it made her very apprehensive.

She tossed the pen and book on her nightstand and walked up to the apartment. It was time to get started on a few chores for the day and keep her dusty mind occupied. The Jones' household was a ragged mess and needed a good scrub. She would do most of the grunt work until Abigail was going to join her later in the night.

For the time being, she cranked up a little metal from Casey's cd collection and brightened the place up: letting a little sunshine sprinkle through the windows, vacuuming the carpet, dusting around the electronics, and eventually moved to the bedrooms. She didn't touch much of Mike's disaster zone and was almost scared to death by a creeping Rosie. The frightened kitty was trying to avoid the vacuum cleaner.

Emyrs silenced the machine. "Come here, you knucklehead. That tends to run in this family. Come out from under the bed! The machine is off!"

She slipped on the floor clutter a few times and decided to call off the cat hunting since she didn't want to break her own neck. It was dangerous in that turtleboy's room!

The next project was a little of the Jones' bedroom. She smiled as she folded Shadow's cute blankets and threw the infant's clothes in the laundry bag. Emyrs fussed over undressing Casey and April's bed covers to wash them. As she struggled to pull the sheets off, a picture frame on Casey's side bounced off the nightstand. Whispering a few vulgarities, she quickly searched for it and checked for damages to the frame. None, she sighed a relief, and placed it back on the table. It was an adorable picture of Casey and April, in their younger years, dressed in Halloween costumes, Emyrs guessed. Otherwise, what would Casey be doing in what looked like a funeral attire and April as a biker chick? It was a fine, hilarious personality switch, and she giggled as the pillow cases came off and whistled to the pile of sheets on the floor.

There were actually quite a few other portraits in the bedroom, mostly consisting of Shadow and a couple of the Hamato family. One in particular had the Hamatos so much younger and fresh-faced. They all looked so innocent and a tad goofy. She carefully dusted off the portraits, grabbed up the dirty laundry, and closed the door to the couples' bedroom.

After a few hours of tidying the place (the bathroom was the worst of it), she stopped only when she heard her stomach growl over the music. It was time for a little change in music, anyhow. You can only rock and roll all night for so long.

Preparing lunch drove her neck-deep in thought; slicing, dicing, and warming the food in the microwave were all passing moments to her meditation. Rosie emerged from Mike's room, meowing and stretching; supposedly she felt much safer since the monster machine was nowhere in sight.

"Want some nibbles, you chicken?" Emyrs teased, leaning in front of the microwave. Rosie sat on the floor and swished about her tail, giving Emyrs a wide-eyed stare.

The kitchen appliance dinged and lunch was served. She and Rosie made themselves comfortable on the sectional with their meals.

"Say, this is very comfy. Think Casey did all right with this find," Emyrs mumbled through her food and overlooking the sofa. Something in the seat was jabbing her lower back, however.

She pulled out a sai and gave it a frightened look. "Raph, shit! You almost injured me AGAIN and you weren't even here!"

It looked very sharp and dangerous so she discreetly placed it on the coffee table and then poked it with her foot, almost waiting for the sai to jump off the table and attack her.

"Rosie, no touch," she pointed to the sai, and the cat curiously tilted her head towards the weapon.

Emyrs and Rosie enjoyed their lunch break; Emyrs would pinch off a bit of her food and feed it to the cat.

The elder turtle chuckled. "You and Otto would be partners in crime. Probably even both dig up my flower patch and I have to kick some kitty toosh."

When the next cd track began, there was a knock at the door. Emyrs and Rosie peered at the door and then looked at each other. Setting her plate on the coffee table, Emyrs wasn't entirely sure if she should answer the call. The door was locked but the Jones had a key, and the Turtles would use the window to come inside. Who could that be behind the frame?

"Come on, Raphael, open up. It's me, Lisa!" a teasing voice mumbled. "You told me to meet you here today."

Meet him here? Emyrs furrowed her brows and then it all clicked. A little rustle in the bushes, huh? Too bad he wasn't here to get some of that, she giggled and turned down the stereo's volume. Emyrs unbolted the door and slowly pulled it open.

"Hi," Emyrs said. Lisa had the most confused look on her face.

"Raphael hasn't made it back yet. There was a family emergency."

"Oh," Lisa stepped and jingled from her jewelry. "Mind if I wait here for him? Is it just you in there?"

"Yep. Well, the kitty, too."

"Mike's kitty, Rosie?"

Emyrs smiled. "Rosie, yeah."

"Where is your daughter? Raph said you two are almost inseparable."

Emyrs fumbled with the door handle. "She's coming home this evening. You might get to meet her."

Lisa's golden eyes sparkled. "May I come in?"

"Yes! Sorry!" Emyrs opened the door fully. "Good thing I just cleaned this place, too."

Lisa strutted into the apartment, waving her hips and tail. The lady had legs going into Forever! She smelled so nice as well.

"He's talked a lot about his family and his friends," Lisa started and picked up a cd case, looking it over. "And you."

"What in the world could he discuss about me?" laughed Emyrs and shooing Rosie off the sectional.

"Thanks for moving the cat. I don't care much about them."

Emyrs squeezed her hands. "I like being around them, but I'm not much of a cat or animal holder. She's been good company for me today, though."

Lisa strolled to the sofa and gracefully made herself comfortable. She gave Emyrs a friendly smile.

Emyrs wiped her palms on her hips. "Uhm, I made some hot sandwiches. Would you like one?"

"No, thanks. I will take something hot to drink if you have one ready."

Emyrs dashed to the counter. "Coming up!"

The hostess fumbled around the counter, almost dropping the cup and spilling a bit of the hot beverage on her hand. She had a few reasons in her mind on why she was very nervous around this attractive lady. Most of all, she felt uneasy inviting Lisa into someone else's home and being there alone with her. Very much alone, except for a scatter brained cat.

"I like Raphael and want to meet his brothers," Lisa expressed from her seat. "They have an interesting background."

"Mmhmm," Emyrs acknowledged and picked up the cup.

"And Casey sounds like a hoot to meet."

"Oh boy, he is."

"April and Shadow."

"Black?"

"Just a bit of cream." Lisa rearranged her jewelry and tugged on her shirt.

The guest continued, "Michelangelo writes, Leonardo trains, and Donatello does machines. He doesn't talk much about his father, Splinter. Maybe he hasn't gotten to him yet."

"Raphael has a lot of material on himself and his brothers. I don't even know the half of it and I've known them about three months," Emyrs chided and poured in some creamer.

"You want to know something else?"

"Sure." Emyrs stirred the coffee.

"I might have a rival."

The spoon stirred faster in the coffee and clinked on the side of the cup. "Rival?"

"Yeah," Lisa sighed romantically. "Glad we're alone so I can talk to you about this."

Emyrs turned and started drinking the brew.

Lisa looked back at her. "Wasn't that my coffee?"

The flabbergasted turtle coughed into the cup and whirled back to the counter. "I'm, uh, sorry that you feel that way," she squeaked out and immediately prepared another cup for Lisa. "I have no intention of being with him. We're just friends."

She babbled, "You have nothing to worry about. I'll be going home soon and you'll have him all to yourself."

"But until then? Can I count on him not talking about you all the time?"

Emyrs was starting to get annoyed now. "I can't stop him from talking. He confides in me and I think you're getting the wrong idea."

The spoon hurriedly swam in the coffee and clinked on the side again. The two ladies fell silent until Lisa laughed.

"You're cute when you're angry. Just like he said."

Emyrs breathed slowly and relaxed her stiff posture. "I'm glad I could be the topic of a conversation for you two. Drink up."

She joined Lisa on the sectional with her own coffee, two seats away and glared at the dark television. There was no way she was going to get caught up in a love triangle with these two silly kids.

Lisa licked her lips after drinking the beverage. "Why are things always better when someone else makes them?"

"I have a mother's touch. What's your specialty?"

"Do you have to ask?" snickered Lisa, continuing slyly. "I excite men. The 'Mona Lisa'."

"I'm aware of that, and you do a good job at it. I'm sure you have other specialties?"

Lisa savored the coffee. "I love gadgets and gizmos. I'm a techno geek."

"I see you dress to the nines. Fashion also?"

"I wasn't always into fashion. This came naturally when I started performing."

Emyrs threw one arm over the sectional and held the cup in her free hand. "I'm ... what do they call it? A plain jane?"

"You wear whatever is comfortable," Lisa stated. "Nothing wrong with that."

Rosie peeped from the floor and rubbed against Emyrs' leg. Emyrs used her leg to rub Rosie back.

The afternoon dipped well into evening, and the ladies lost track of time in their discussions of music, family, politics, and laughing at the Jones' picture albums. Their giggleboxes were turned up full blast and they jammed out to Casey's music collection. They even found an old demo of Casey attempting music and had to smile at the poor lad's attempt. It was precious.

Emyrs hopped up from the sofa and whisked back to the kitchen in her frantic mode again. "I hope you can stay for dinner!"

"Absolutely! I'm going to the ladies room now."

Emyrs turned. "Oh! Close that window before you do your business!"

Lisa locked the bathroom door and dug out a cell phone from her purse. It had been vibrating for some time but she hadn't had the chance to check it. She smiled to herself, thinking how much fun she honestly had with the older lady.

She read her overloaded inbox and growled at each passing message.

"Umeko, get a grip," she flared and whispered her text back, "About to do it now. Will escape through bathroom window. Be ready."

She pulled out a syringe from her purse and tapped the side to make sure the concoction was ready. Before stuffing it back into her purse, she looked at herself in the mirror for a long, hard second. Did she, or did she not, want to go through with this? Only a few times in her life did she ever get this nervous. The syringe shook slightly in her hand.

Everything changes from here, Lisa declared, and I'm the one who gets the ball rolling.

She flushed the toilet and ran the sink water. Before turning off the faucet, she splashed a bit on her cheeks and soaked in the water's calming sound. She had orders to carry out, but they were not going to be easy for anyone.

Emyrs still remained at the counter, her back facing Lisa, and was busy shuffling dishes around the top. She was humming a pretty tune and titling her head over the stove to sniff the aroma. A delightful day turning into a calm night, she yearned.

Lisa's heart beat faster with each soundless step she took. The music still rolled on in the living room. She knew this song. It had a long guitar riff in the middle of it, and as soon as the riff played, she raised the white cloth and covered Emyrs' nose and mouth. When the riff ended and floated back into a verse, Emyrs had strummed the last of her tune and slumped backwards, leaning onto Lisa.

Lisa reached to turn off the stove and carried Emyrs to the sectional. Rosie watched from the other end of the couch as Lisa injected the victim, muttering to forgive her actions, and made sure nothing was out of place around the body. She hastily ran down the basement to finish the rest of her business for the evening. Before vacating through the bathroom window as planned, she made sure nothing was left on in the kitchen and made her getaway.

Rosie glided over to Emyrs' slumbering body and rubbed against it. When Emyrs didn't respond, the gentle cat snuggled against a pillow and waited for her friend to wake up.


	27. Chapter 25 :: Mother

_Synopsis: A person you think you truly know can still surprise you. Mike and Raphael reluctantly visit Irma, to speak with April and convince her to return home. _

_With everyone out of the apartment for the afternoon, Emyrs slipped on her cleaning gloves and worked through the mess. Lisa paid a visit, supposedly to meet up with Raphael, and the two ladies chatted over coffee. It takes a few moments for Lisa to get the courage to carry out her 'orders', and she does by injecting her hostess and leaving her slumbering body._

* * *

Burning up no time, she sprinted out the bathroom window and soared to the ground with a tight thud. Her breaths were short and her hand was still tingling from popping the syringe. Immediately, Lisa surveyed her surroundings and flung the sweaty bangs out of her eyes. Not a strand of hair was out of line on her pretty head. She glided to the street with her poker face.

As she was waiting for a cab, Lisa grinned at the nearby pedestrians, mostly males who were giving her very flirty looks. Her phone vibrated in the bag and she pulled it out to check the influx of messages exploding on the screen. She only checked briefly before a taxi pulled up and she hopped inside, like a whisper in the wind.

Inside, she digitally wrote back to her partner: "Cat in the bag. Your turn to take it out soon."

Lisa sighed, put away her phone and even dismissed the next discharge of messages, and lost herself in the blur of the city passing by outside the cab. She did the job and got out. Her partner wanted to keep egging it on, and for a lady who doesn't lose her cool too often, Lisa was stepping closer to the breaking point.

"Rough evening, miss?"

The cab driver smirked at her from the rear view mirror. She had to tell herself that despite looking incredibly perverted, he didn't do anything wrong and shouldn't feel her wrath.

Her golden eyes flashed and with a flirty grin she answered, "About as rough as you can get. Had a picky client."

There was a laugh and various words from the driver that followed her lie, but she paid no attention to him. Between his raspy voice and the phone's alerts, it all melted into that blur and the noise inside her head.

This night needed to be over with, and soon.

* * *

Donatello rose from his operative position. The frigid weather created an uncomfortable environment to spy on another but his body was tingling, and it wasn't just from the cold. He really was on this person's heels, and he watched the robed individual text maniacally on a phone. It almost seemed like the person was getting frustrated from not knowing how to work the gadget, too. He could hear bursts of anger and what he thought were curses in Japanese. The scene was a little humorous, if anything.

The mini binoculars were whipped out and established right on the cell phone. He couldn't hear the DTMF pings from all of street noises and wind, and wherever he moved, it was still too difficult to hear. The person was in the perfect spot away from him. Peering through the binoculars, he could make out just a bit of what the person was typing but the fingers moved quickly and stumbled often. His eyes did notice that the fingers had claws and a touch of dark brown fur.

Twilight before dusk was a bad time to try and see anything, even for a ninja, but he made the best of this situation. Aside from admiring the phone and swearing at the snippy wind, Donatello wrapped up his investigation after a long day. Any capturing and demanding answers from victims, he would leave for his more persuasive brothers to handle. Slow, calculating, and heavy endurance were major key points in this investigation at the moment. It had been quite some time since they had to do any stealth work like today. The bloodhound in him couldn't let it go; it was like biting into a restricted favorite food all over again.

His tongue warm and his head full of theories, Donatello disappeared into the dusk. His nearby subject tucked away her cellphone just as the ninja vanished and backed into the alleyway with gleaming amber pupils burning through the enveloping darkness.

* * *

She hadn't seen snow like this in years; it was falling like rainfall would, clouding vision and piling onto the ground. A prominent leader's statue was glittering white in no time soon, and she was glad to see it covered up. The ugly thing.

"Mother," her child's voice called to her.

She must have kept walking and not noticing how far she traveled from her daughter. The snow always caught her attention, and so did that hideous statue.

Emyrs turned and peered up the high steps to the church. There stood Abigail, dressed in a heavy gray coat and beige boots, and those beautiful eyes drowning in sorrow. With the sky powder exuding and the church bells clapping, the child appeared magical in her stationary position; she wouldn't think so, however.

"Sorry." Emyrs faintly smiled and dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets. Maybe Abby wouldn't see the scattered tears falling from her face since the snow was getting heavier. The adult in the situation didn't need to crumble in front of the child.

"He was pretty. In that casket." Abigail stared down at her mother.

Emyrs nodded, sighed, and blinked through the tears.

"I'm glad you found him, Mother. He wasn't alone when he was with you."

You stupid, stupid child of mine, Emyrs flamed in her mind. All she could think of was finding the little Ibsen's stiff body and replacing him with Abigail. It was hard enough to find him that day, it was hard to tell Abby, it was hard to sleep for days, and it was even harder to hold it together at the bottom of those church steps.

Abigail closed her eyes and held her head back to let the snow fall on her chapped face. She stayed like that for ages and the memories kept her warm, even the one of seeing his innocence in the coffin.

When she faced the front again and opened her eyes, there was her mother, bent on her knees and staring straight into Abigail's face with tears that could drown them both.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Emyrs' hoarse voice wailed. "He is safe. He will always be safe."

They embraced on the footsteps, sobbing and holding each other tight. Abigail still has life in her; her body isn't stiff and cold, and she's breathing on my shoulder, the mother thought with much, much relief. Her family remained together.

Once the bells silenced, the pair was joined by two more individuals: a tall, bulky dragonoid and a brunette rabbit who hugged the mother and daughter. They descended the steps and hurried home before the snow consumed all of them.

The exhausted mother uncovered her vision and took a few minutes for her mind to unclog. She had a dream of a memory, a sad memory but very important to her being. It was nice to see her best friend and Flodina in the same dream, too. In fact, she missed everything about being home.

"Mother?" Abigail asked as she walked into the room. "Mother, are you okay?"

"Mmm," Emyrs mustered and sat up on the sectional. She saw Rosie next to her and then wondered why her left arm felt a little sore.

"You look so exhausted!" Abby shrilled and peered around the apartment. "You cleaned the heck out of this place! No wonder!"

"Not so loud, Abby, please," Emyrs mumbled and felt slightly dizzy.

"You also drank a little too much!" Raphael teased, shaking the nearly empty bottle. "I'm impressed!"

Abigail shot back, "Mother doesn't usually drink that much."

"It was a full bottle this morning, toots."

Concerned, Abigail felt her mother's forehead and waved her finger in front of the dazed lady's face.

"Cut it out, kid. Go act like a teenager and call some boys or somethin," Raph flashed and sat down next to Emyrs. Rosie hissed.

"Watch out for my cat, Bro!" Mike bellowed and swooped up a frightened Rosie.

"You cleaned up this place, Em?" Raph asked, ignoring Mike and Abigail's burning glares.

"Some," Emyrs nodded and felt herself come out of the mental fog.

Mike peered into his room. "You didn't touch mine, thank goodness. I like having things in certain places."

She chuckled. "You have a guard at the door. Rosie wouldn't let that vacuum get in there."

Abby walked to the kitchen and noticed it in a bit of disarray. She didn't want to keep questioning while Raphael was around.

"Want me to finish dinner? What were you making?" Abby called from the kitchen.

"Uhm.." Emyrs began and gave a puzzled look to Raphael, Mike, and Rosie.

When she couldn't remember anything, she shrugged and said, "Making it up as I went along."

"Good thing you turned off the stove," Abby mumbled and fussed around the counter. She felt her foot crunch something, and she looked down at the floor. It was a piece of shiny jewelry and nothing that she knew her mother owned. She picked it up and stuffed it in her pocket for another time.

"Any luck with April?" Emyrs asked, stretching her back and neck.

"A little progress," Mike commented. "But we're not sure if she's coming back tonight or this week. Or whenever."

Rosie mewed and looked up at Mike curiously.

Raphael gruffly exhaled. "If we could get Casey to stop harassing her and give her space, things would be better. But he's a bonehead like that."

"Has anybody, other than April, asked him to do this for her?" Emyrs pointed out.

Mike and Raphael had nothing to say.

"Guess that's my cue," she concluded and curved her head towards the kitchen. "Abby, need help?"

"No, no. I got it!" the tween commanded as a piercing glass sound rang from the area. Mike placed Rosie on the far end of the sectional (away from thunder-thighs Raphael) and dashed to the kitchen.

"You sit." Raphael pointed to the older lady when she was about to stand. He was so short with her that she had no choice but to do as he said.

April briskly walked into the apartment and held up her hand to stop any conversation.

"I'm only here to grab a few items, guys. I don't have time to talk."

She hurried into her bedroom and flicked on the light. A resounding "wow" muttered from her lips but the excitement smeared away when she grabbed a bag and began stuffing it.

Emyrs and Raphael left the couch; she was going to the bedroom but Raphael beat her to it so she stopped at the kitchen counter to watch. It was for the best anyways since the dizzy spell was returning.

"April," Raphael's bass, ridged pitch pleaded. "This ain't right. You and Case have been together for years. You're inseparable!"

"Did I just say not to talk to me about this?" April snapped, slamming a drawer.

"I can't stand back and not say nothin', April. It hurts me. It hurts all of us."

"And what about me? It hurts me the MOST, Raphael. The most!" Her voice was cracking and she was close to tears again.

"I cry every night. I shouldn't have to cry every night!"

"No, you shouldn't," Raphael felt defeated.

"My baby shouldn't have to see me cry every night!" April shrieked. "I told you EVERYTHING on our walk together: why I cry, why I feel this way, why I did what I had to do!"

He watched her slam more drawers, cram more items into an exploding bag, and edge closer to her breaking point. Everybody in the kitchen area looked into their own distance.

"April," Raphael spoke softly, his voice no longer holding a rough edge to it, and taking her hand as she collapsed on the edge of the bed.

"My lady," he said, moving stray hairs out of her face, "there is no doubt that you're the smartest, the strongest out of this family. Shadow needs you. You need her."

Near sobbing, she shook her head to confirm.

"And Casey needs you. He's a few screws loose but the man works himself to death to feed you all. You won't go hungry or lose your house while he's around."

"But I want more. I need more for Shadow," she trembled.

He grabbed her arms gently. "And you're gonna get that, April. Casey ain't no loser. He's the happiest when he's with you; when he talks about you and Shadow, he lights up like Times Square at Christmas."

Mike caught himself trying to snort at Raph's simile. He filled his mouth full of juice and thought about using that line in one of his stories. Simple and effective.

Emyrs observed the scene from the counter, tracing his arms touching April's, pushing hair strands out of her eyes, and giving her a kiss on the forehead as he stood.

"That's all I hadda say. Good night."

He paused at the doorway. She shared a moment with him and gave him much more respect. He was certainly a good friend and showing a very gentle side that he always covered up. In fact, he kinda huffed at Emyrs as he walked back to the sofa. Yeah, he liked to cover that tender side up a whole lot, she realized. Knucklehead.

When April departed, Mike and Abigail continued with preparing supper, and Raphael playfully wrestled with a nippy Rosie on the sofa. Emyrs laid her head on the counter, was careful not to poke her mysteriously sore left arm, and smiled as she napped to the nightly rustle.

* * *

The leggy lizard lady jingled her apartment keys and unlocked the premises with a fast sigh. She was doing a lot of that these days: sighing, exhaling, and finding ways to free her mind. Work did nothing for her, her partner constantly hassled and moaned, and she had very few friends. Raphael was a good friend to her, but she was feeling jealous of sharing him with others. In fact, it was very strange that she didn't feel sexually attracted to him. There was flirtation with many and her very being trickled sexuality and eroticism, but in her sketchy mind, Lisa was indifferent to romance. Inside, she yearned for something much more. It ate at her every single day, every single moment.

She came home to an empty residence with very little furniture, pictures, and overall personality. It was dreary except for when a little music leaked from the stereo. If she wasn't at work or with Umeko, her nagging lady-fox partner in crime, on missions or searches, she was exercising in some form or fashion. The world drifted from her fingertips everyday; it was like she was on stage, performing for everyone. She was definitely the Untouchable one.

Posing for the bathroom mirror, she unloosened her thick locks and let them fall onto her shoulders. Lisa remembered seeing herself in the Jones' bathroom mirror just before the mission and how sad her face seemed. She didn't have that expression now. It was blank, and her yellow eyes were dull.

Water gushed from the faucet and she splashed her face several times.

Lisa, the Lonely Lady, had a lot of thinking to do and very little time to react to any of it.


	28. Chapter 26a :: Three

_Synopsis: Lisa isn't happy with herself and with the current situation. Her bleak apartment reflects the empty feelings she holds. _

_While Emyrs was out cold, she re lived a painful yet important memory. She woke up to the concerned sound of her daughter's voice and peculiar stares from Raph and Mikey; she didn't remember Lisa's visit. _

_April returned to the apartment only to pick up a few belongings, and Raph, in a rare tender moment, pleads with April to think it all over._

* * *

The early morning weather, despite being in the mainstream of winter, allowed a couple of ladies to freely jog in the park. They waited until sunrise, had a cup of cocoa each, bundled their clothes tightly to their skins, and dove into the morning air.

Young Abigail knew her mother enjoyed mornings, but it caught her by surprise when her mother asked her to join in a morning exercise. It was usually Abigail who took to any exercise at all, but she wasn't going to complain. She loved running and breathing in the day's beginning.

Emyrs looked particularly chipper for someone who didn't like running in the cold or doing any morning shenanigans other than dunking her head in coffee. She couldn't explain the sudden good feeling and wanted to take advantage of it.

"How's your arm? Still sore?" Abby said. She was a few steps ahead of her mother.

"It's better. I made sure not to sleep on it last night."

Abby slowed her pace and walked beside her mother; she gave Emyrs a sweet smile.

"What's with the angelic smile? You want something?" her mother grinned.

Abby nodded. "Nope. I'm glad to see you out here and being active. You're always fussing about having too much on your hips or looking like a bloated elephant in the mirror."

"And you're going to be left behind, slowpoke!" Emyrs called, suddenly way ahead of her daughter and waving back to her. "Buh-bye!"

That sparked a little fire under Abigail's rump and she rushed passed Emyrs, almost knocking her down. Mother lagged way behind Daughter, and then Daughter was out of the sight.

Emyrs wheezed and laughed, "That little runt. I didn't mean for her to leave me in the dust."

She caught her breath and balance and walked briskly on the path. It was possible her heart was going to burst out of her chest and then shove itself down her throat. Too much too soon, she chuckled and hoped she would see Abigail somewhere down the path.

Showoff, Emyrs lightly grumbled and stopped to catch more of her evading breath. She was caught between fits of barking and giggles at her own dumb luck.

It wasn't long before she felt a gust of wind and Abigail's disappearing voice saying about the elder lady being the real slowpoke, to eat her dust, and how she must be a true turtle (again, slow). That was okay. It was all good fun and a break from monotony, Emyrs chortled.

Determined not to let Abigail pass her again, Emyrs continued the trek with accelerated breaths, pumping the old arms, and managing steady steps on the frosty sidewalk. It wasn't too icy but she had to be careful not to fall and break a hip, like the old crank she was.

The big 4-5 today, she winced.

"Forty-five years of my ugly face on this planet!"

She yelled at no-one in particular, maybe just Abigail who was probably in Oz by now. Her voice had echoed sharply too, and she had no idea why there was an outburst about her age. It seemed to fit with the randomness of the dawn.

"Forty-five is a good, ripe number."

The sweet voice passed by her ear, and Emyrs stopped suddenly to look back at the sound. The bench glowed with a sensuous spirit, and Lisa smiled at her from a large, very fine silver overcoat. At least, it appeared silver in the sun's glare. She literally sparkled.

Emyrs returned the smile with a blush, "Good morning! I have too much oxygen and city smog in my brain this morning."

Lisa chuckled slightly. She closed the book she had been reading and removed her eyewear. "Happy birthday, Miss Becker. What are your plans today?"

"Apparently, lose at this game of running in circles and having my daughter taunt me all day."

"Do you ice-skate?"

Emyrs sighed, watching a big cloud of air escape her lips. "We go every year. I can stand on my feet and not fall down too much. I think that counts for something, don't you?"

Sincerely, Lisa suggested, "You and your daughter should enjoy the day. I can suggest a few places."

"We can discuss it, sure. Wait a minute," Emyrs paused as Abigail was approaching fast. "Here comes Abby... with some stranger in a mask and coat."

"Mother, I found this on the sidewalk. We might have to call animal control or the police."

Abigail's face was almost contorted in a bitter mix. The heavily-bundled stranger vehemently mumbled, and Emyrs finally made out the body pattern and rough voice.

"Good morning, Fido!"

She laughed as Raphael unmasked himself and took a light swing at Abby's head. His student avoided the strike and continued walking.

"Kids and no respect," he cursed and watched Abigail as she strolled away from the group.

Emyrs shouted after her daughter, "Not too far! Stay in sight, please!"

"If they kidnap her, they'll bring her back," Raph barked. "I would!"

He stewed a while longer in his spot and tardily spotted Lisa shimmering from the bench; his face instantly lit up with satisfaction (infatuation?).

"Hey, you!" he teased. "Sorry about yesterday! I, uh, got caught up in some personal troubles with friends. You know how that goes and all."

She placed her glasses in her matching bag. "I got busy, but a phone call would have been nice."

"Can I make it up to you?" He sounded very nervous and rubbed the back of his thick head. Typical nervous Raphael-behavior.

While the two love-birds chatted, Emyrs slithered away to find her obnoxiously cute daughter. When she turned the corner, her ears bumped into sharp whispers, more like "psssst", and some more noises resembling a snake being strangled?

"Em! Here! Behind you!" the voice shrieked.

She darted around trying to find the voice. "Where? Who are you?"

"Donatello! Look in the bushes!"

They were certainly ninjas; she could have sworn she looked in the bushes several times, but at a closer glance, there was Donatello... in such a dark suit with a mask.

"Overkill much?" she quipped.

He pointed in Raph's direction. "We're spying on Raphael."

"We?"

So where was Leonardo, then? She squinted into the bushes.

"Not here. He's in the tree."

Emyrs looked up and saw a wave from another dark suit. Leonardo. Abigail was below the tree, shaking her head.

"Cute," Emyrs grinned and got back on the trail.

"Have fun -SPYING ON YOUR BROTHER!"

Donatello and Leonardo were nowhere to be seen now, and Raphael's flaming voice echoed throughout the park.

"They better NOT be spying on me! I'll find ya and whoop your tails!"

"Do we have to spend time with him today, Mother?" Abigail whined.

Emyrs took one last look up the tree. "I don't think he's going to mind us. One last lap, huh?"

Raphael was adorable and pretty attractive but he sure could talk a person's head off their shoulders. Lisa found herself slipping in and out of the conversation, slinging back to his husky voice just as he would ask a question. There was no telling what she missed.

"You have any plans today, then? I, I'm not busy," he gushed and had made himself comfortable beside her on the bench. He couldn't stay still, either.

"I'm planning on taking Emyrs and her daughter ice-skating. It is her birthday."

"Whose birthday?" he shot.

"Miss Becker's. She is a beautiful 45 years old, don't you think so?"

"Today?" Raphael's voice cracked. "Shit! Whoops!"

He covered his mouth and almost looked like he was throwing up in it. "I got a foul mouth. Grew up around brothers and all."

Regaining his (less) nervous composure, Raphael looked around the park from his seat. "I don't even have a birthday gift yet. Doesn't help that I'm broke, too."

"Then go with us. I'll spot you."

He made a sour face. "Men should be the one to pay, right? I don't think they would let me charge at the ice rink."

"Charge?"

"Nothin."

Raphael caught a swinging arm going for his hat. It was that little brat-ling student of his.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" he roared and pushed her back on the sidewalk. "I got a lot of years and three brothers ahead of you."

"You look pathetic sitting on the bench wanting that pretty lady, like you got some kind of game."

"Emyrs," Raph's voice lowered. "Get your daughter before I bury her in the snow back there."

"Bury ME in the snow, please," a gasping Emyrs reached the bench. "I'm dying!"

"I think somebody has a crush on you," Lisa whispered in Raph's ear.

Abigail blushed and put her hands on her hips. "Not my type."

Raphael chuckled and pointed to Abby. "I'm not her type AT ALL. I'm not even in the same field."

Another swing from Abby. This time, it was a very big one and landed right on his shoulder.

Emyrs dramatically clutched onto Abigail and almost slipped on a random icy patch on the walk. She was breathing rapidly. "I have flames all over my body!"

"Emyrs, you forty-five?" Raphael blurted and gave a puzzled look at her performance.

She couldn't answer right away but after a couple of really deep breaths, she was back on her two feet. "Yes, forty-five STINKING years old."

"OLD LADY!" Raph howled and dodged a few good strikes from Abigail.

The "old lady" smirked and calmly trotted away. "Okay!" she announced to the park. "We're going to The Pond at Bryant Park and then the holiday market! Binoculars and cameras ready?"

"What the hell is she shouting for?" Raph snapped. Lisa snickered.

"Does he HAVE to come with us, Miss Lisa?" Abby groaned.

He mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Does SHE have to come with us, Miss Lisa?"

While the two argued and swung/dodged at each other, Lisa smiled and sighed as she left the bench. "All children must hold hands and look both ways."

Light snow drizzled from the darkening sphere, and the sun wasn't in the mood to shine its brightest for this day. The wind whistled at sporadic moments and vanished into the bustling city's ambiance. A low-key mix of non-humans could be seen entering the ice rink so the Troupe didn't feel entirely out of place. Abigail and Raphael were the first to get their skates and rush onto the ice. It was a friendly catastrophe waiting to happen. Emyrs had to chastise the both of them for pushing people aside and threatening to cut the other with the skate's blade.

All in good fun but it was aggravating her simmering headache from the morning marathon. Lisa noticed Emyrs wincing and the sharp tongue.

"I can stay on the sidelines with you. No need to get on the ice if you're feeling sick," the concerned friend suggested. Emyrs paid for her rental skates.

"Somebody has to be a referee," she groaned and removed her shoes. "You need to be out there with your date."

Lisa pointed to the rink. "If he keeps acting like that, there will be no date."

Emyrs looked at the enclosure and through the growing crowd. "Did he just push her into the wall?"

"You should have seen HER pushing him into the wall. I knew that wouldn't work."

"Pushing him would be like pushing a walrus into a volcano."

Lisa chuckled. "Come again?"

Emyrs forgot about her German accent making certain words sound weird to English speakers, like anything that started with 'w'. "A stubborn moose. That's what Raphael is."

Tying up her skates, Lisa agreed with a delicate nod and swayed to the rink. She waited on a stumbling Emyrs to reach the gate.

"And on my forty-fifth birthday, I landed in the hospital with a broken hip," nervously Emyrs began, "What in the holy donkey balls am I doing?"

"Donkey balls?" Lisa yelped and laughed. "Watch that first step!"

"Mother, don't fall! I'm coming!" Abigail's metallic squeal blared from somewhere in the rink and crowds.

Once the two ladies skated onto the ice, Emyrs regained some balance. "I got this, I got this," she mumbled to herself. "Go have fun with your date, Lisa. Don't help a little old lady spin some ice."

"You better not try spinning the ice or cutting or anything!" Lisa chastised and skated ahead. "See you in a moment!"

Emyrs gazed at the crowd and was pretty astonished to find that most of the humans weren't gawking at her and her company, like in previous cases. Maybe it was just a certain vicinity kind-of-thing with close-minded people. It was nice to skate with friends and get out of stuffy basements and sewers. She wondered how Raphael and his brothers felt now with their freedom, as restricted as it was, but it was still more freedom than they ever had. She tried to find him in the hustle and bustle and followed the scent of hearts and manliness.

"MOTHER!"

"Oh, god!" Emyrs jumped and whisked to the wall to keep from falling.

"Mother! I told you to wait!" Abigail grabbed onto her mother's arm, the SORE arm.

That headache was really manifesting now. "Abby, will you PLEASE not do that? You're being a big pain in the butt today."

"Really?" She looked a little hurt.

"Really." Emyrs pushed herself from the wall and sighed. "Calm down, my _Tochter_."

Disheartened, the tween nodded and fell silent. She got caught up in the moment of wrestling with Raphael and the adrenaline still ran high. Her mother, feeling the sting of her own words catching up to her, talked to Abby in their foreign tongue about having fun but remembering manners and respect; Raphael was her teacher and not a big brother... and to not try and push a big bear like him into a wall. It wouldn't work and Abigail would just end up hurting herself.

Speaking to Abigail with German interchange always had a soothing effect during their remote vacation. When they had left the shores of their nation, Emyrs required her child to speak English in America, excluding to any other German-speaking people. Obeying her mother was ingrained into her very soul, and besides, she didn't want to catch the "Eye".

The "Eye" that just happened after she excited her mother on the ice.

Must avoid the "Eye", Abby repeated with fear.

During their conversation, the two skated passed Raphael and Lisa, and Emyrs only caught a glimpse of her young turtle friend's glowing face. Yes, he was no longer a caged bird and those wings didn't have to flap vigorously anymore. The bird could stop fighting and breathe independence, and he was as handsome as ever with that... smile and vivid lemon eyes..

Emyrs halted on the ice, almost whip-lashing her daughter.

...'handsome'? Oh, _shit_.


	29. Chapter 26b :: Two

_Synopsis: On an early frosty morning in the park, Raphael runs into Lisa, and he works up the nerve to ask her on a date. The Beckers cruise around the corner, and everyone learns it's Emyrs' 45th birthday. Raph is a little less enthused over Lisa inviting the Beckers on, what he believes is, their ice-skating 'date'. _

_Things are suddenly becoming a little warmer on the ice..._

* * *

"You said that, right?"

Abigail blinked and stretched her neck to see if it was still attached to her shoulders. "I said what?"

"You did. You did say it! I didn't say it.."

"What did I say?"

Emyrs had a withering expression on her face and dragged her daughter off the ice.

"I need something cold to drink. Stay here."

Mother was sure acting weird, Abby sighed. In fact, she had been a little strange for the last two days: misplacing items (when Mother was so organized and precise), snapping at Abigail for no reason, and hitting some wild mood swings by nightfall. Abby wondered, wasn't the teenager supposed to be the one having the fits? Mother was under a lot of stress lately.

She shrugged it off and obediently waited for her troubled guardian.

* * *

_Three hours earlier:_

A boisterous dream catapulted him out of his hammock and planted his face into the floor. He needed a serious wake-up call, and the floor did the trick. Raphael bounced up like nothing happened.

"I don't need that kind of dream," he mumbled and waddled to the bathroom. When he glanced into the mirror, his cheeks were hot.. and were warm to the touch, too.

Water was promptly splashed onto the heated spots, and he furiously rubbed his face.

"Get out, get out, GET OUT!"

"I haven't even gotten to the DOOR yet, sheesh!" Donatello moaned and was a few inches from the gateway. "Don't hog the bathroom all day. No amount of work is going to pretty up that ugly mug."

"Donny, go cook some eggs or bacon or something. It's your turn anyways."

Raphael didn't look up to see if his brother had left, but he continued letting the faucet run. Several drops later, his mind finally cleared from the haze, and he could smell the eggs cooking in the kitchen. Or maybe bombs. You could never tell with Don on any given day.

"Raph, get Leo and tell him breakfast will be ready!" Don shouted as the pan sizzled.

Not particularly excited about seeing Leonardo's face so early in the morn, Raphael tossed his towel in a random direction and headed back to his own room. He knew a morning jog would ease his tension and punch some of the filth out of his system. Okay, over dramatization might have shoved itself somewhere in this situation, but thinking back on the dream caused his cheeks to go funny again, like when he was with a certain lady. Ahh, now that made him warm. A good kind of warm. Not the awkward kind.

Like the Brother Staring Down in your Face Awkward Kind.

"You got a problem, Pokey?" When did Don come into the room?

"Go. Get. Leo. Nar. Doh."

Raph tied up his jogging shoes. "If you want him so bad, go get him yourself! Your breath stinks. Get out of my face!"

Don was holding the skillet and flinging grease everywhere. "I'm going to get all Splinter and Leonardo on your toosh here, Bro. You've been-"

"You can start by putting that damn skillet down," Raph pointed with a shaking finger. "You're popping me!"

"Sorry," the cook mumbled and set it down on some books. "You've been all over your lady friend, and we just don't approve."

The steam was rising very slowly under Raphael's skin; it bubbled and boiled along with the oil in the skillet. "You all ganging up on me like the goddamn Brady Bunch? Lisa wouldn't hurt a flea! What's wrong with her? You found out stupid stuff?"

Don quipped, "Lisa?"

"Lisa!"

Donatello froze and his pupils darted back to the kitchen for a second.

"Oh. Lisa!"

"Yeah, Lisa! Who the hell else is my lady friend?" Raphael was standing by now and bucked out his chest, hoping to intimate his accuser.

Don picked up the skillet and flipped the soggy egg, muttering, "Lisa, Lisa."

"Donatello," Raph growled, "Go BACK to the kitchen and flip your eggs. Stop spilling grease on my floor and on ME."

It wasn't that Don was afraid of his Morning-Face Relative but that he was about to blow some heavy intervention. He scooted back to the kitchen and promptly dissolved in his duties. Raphael assembled the rest of his wear, exhaled, and went searching for the Prodigal Son that was so urgently needed for breakfast.

First, the dojo. Astonishingly, not there.

Leo's room? Not a whistle.

Splinter's room? No Leonardo but a snoozing sensei who mumbled something about a radioactive shoe and Donatello's big toe.

The livingroom? Just a couch, table, magazines, trash, and the daily newspaper. (We still get those?, he asked).

The bathroom, the dojo again, and everywhere else in the Lair... no Leonardo. The last guess would be topside and he was probably running a marathon or three. He would catch up with Leonardo during his own jog; Raphael was at least BETTER than Leonardo at something. The slowpoke.

"Going out for a bit!" he shouted through the lair.

"Leonardo!" Don squawked and rustled plates.

"GOING OUT TO GET Leonardo, Mother!" Raphael boomed back and slammed the gate. He must have slammed it so hard, he thought he heard Splinter's shrilling voice. Let him scream at Donatello, Raph mused, threw on his full-covered mask, and jogged along their familiar trail.

He passed by the little spot where he always found Mikey slumped against the wall last year. Last time, it was Emyrs. Raph found himself there a few times, wallowing in self-pity. That spot apparently attracted a lot of emo folks.

Several yards down, there was a comfortable area where they played as kids. He fondly remembered pushing Mikey and Don into the water. Leo would never budge; he always figured out a way to avoid being attacked, the little maggot. When they hit their teens, it was the hot spot to shout at each other or talk about how tough Splinter had been with them that day. So many tears and blood had been spilled onto those grounds. It was sacred and holy to them! Mikey even placed a cross there at some point. April and Casey had tripped there many times since the pipes were protruding out of the walls and it was a particularly dark part of the sewer... well, darker than the other parts. Casey had almost given himself a concussion one time. Maybe two? Gen tried to cut the pipes with his sword, and he tripped only because he was grabbing for some money sticking out of Casey's back pocket. Knucklebrains. The last person to trip and fall was Emyrs. She was a knucklebrain, too. And she had made sure he wasn't going to get any sleep by invading his dreams recently. Stupid old turtle lady with her weird accent.

He was quickly advancing the manhole where they exit and take on their daily sprint, but a slick shadow jumped in front of him.

"Whoa!" Raph's sharp voice echoed as he halted. "Leo!"

"Keeping you on your toes," Leo's milky voice rumbled. "What's on your mind, brother?"

"How I tried not to crap myself just now!"

Leonardo laughed and dipped out of the shadows, a wide grin across his face. "Then your mind wasn't focused on your surroundings."

Raphael scrunched up his face. "Mother Don, Father Leo. This is touching."

Leonardo used a flashlight to shine on the wall. "Remember all of this graffiti?"

Raphael sighed and squinted. "Yeah. I wrote 'Big Dawg Raph wuz here'. Mikey was the artist with all the flowers and shit. I told him that would give us away!"

"Not like BIG DAWG RAPH wouldn't?" Leo chuckled but his hands were so steady that the light didn't bounce. "When did we write all of this? Can you remember?"

"Did a lot of remembering on my jog just now actually. Everybody falling and tripping through here."

"We weren't supposed to do this, remember? Splinter said no graffiti."

"But when did we ever listen?" Raph scoffed. "Mikey and his big dumb purple flowers. Look at Don's goofy Chewbacca. Sorta like a bear that mated with a camel."

"Hey, isn't that you as Dracula? Mikey's handiwork."

Raphael roared, "He didn't get to finish it because I kicked him in the head! Then he didn't remember to finish it."

Leonardo moved the light up. "We were fools to put a phone number here, too. Who put it there? 'Call Mikey for a good time and if you want your hard work gone to waste'?"

"Believe it or not, that was Donny. Mike did something to piss him off. And I think that was two years ago when he wrote that."

The two turtles reminisced with more questions and goofy answers. Leo flicked the switch and the sewer fell dark once again.

"Twelve."

"Huh?" Raphael relaxed and looked at his brother.

"We were twelve."

"That long ago?"

"That long ago," Leonardo finalized and ascended the steps.

"Hey, uh, wait," Raph started. "Don wanted you to come eat breakfast. Should we go back before he comes down here with that skillet?"

"Are you shaking in your boots, little brother?" Leo gently teased. "You worming your way out of this Challenge of the Dawn?"

"Climb up 'dem steps, chump!" The rowdy little brother barked. "You'll be eating those words with Don's soggy eggs and bacon!"

Roaring with laughter, Leo stepped out of the manhole, "It's not any worse than your breakfast. I'm better than the both of you!"

"If you say that 'better than you' crud one more time, I'm going to rip your throat out! Then you won't torture us on karaoke night anymore!"

Their voices drifted through the sewers and the heavy manhole cover killed the small light shining over their Wall of Memories.

* * *

Leo won.

And Raph heard it all through breakfast. He swallowed his oily eggs and bacon while the Heroic Tale of Leonardo the Great hammered over the table. Splinter looked like he wasn't in the mood for it, either.

Say something, Sensei, saaaay something, Raph groaned. Tell Leo to go flip a million times for disturbing the peace.

But no, Sensei delicately ate his breakfast and flicked his ears. Donatello didn't help either with forcing more mediocre food on everyone's plate and giving Raphael flashing stares.

"What's wrong with your food this morning, Don? It's usually so much better, no offense," interrupted Leo during his own colorful story.

"Was up all night mostly," he snipped and rejoined the table. When he tasted his own food, he almost spat it back on the plate.

"It's still delicious, and thank you," Leo bowed and continued eating.

"Raphael, if you slam that door one more time, I'm going to bury you through to China," Splinter coolly commented and went back to eating like nothing was ever said.

"He broke something in the living room. I didn't see what it was," Don said with a hint of tattle-tell. It was sickeningly deceptive.

Splinter still didn't look up from his food but his ears did flick faster. "If you broke one of my vases, you are going to clock in somewhere and buy another one for me."

Raphael slurped his eggs and wondered what crawled up his Father's robe and bit him.

After the Bonafide Breakfast Breakdown was over, Raphael had an upset little tummy. Donatello complained about not being able to go to the bathroom before and definitely couldn't go after Raphael's disturbance.

"You know, Don doesn't have to spray the room like it's a contaminated waste zone," Raph mumbled to Leo. "And it was his stupid eggs that did it!"

"Go run a bit more, Raph," Leo instructed as he cleaned his sword and inspected it. "You've been a bit of a slouch when it comes to keeping in good shape. Too many _other_ things on your mind."

Raphael groaned. "You don't have to tell me twice to leave. And lay off of Lisa. You guys are just jealous that I got someone."

"Lisa?" Leo said it in the same way that Don had earlier: baffled.

"Lisa! Who else?"

He watched Leo go back to cleaning the sword, and when Raphael was tired of deciphering the puzzle, he left, groaning and moaning.

Donatello finished detoxing the bathroom and joined Leonardo as they watched Raphael leave. He removed his surgical mask and sighed, "I almost messed up."

"So did I. Guess it's not as serious as we thought."

"We should still keep an eye on him, and that Lisa lady, too. I haven't seen our little robed friend lately."

Leonardo nodded his head. "It's hard to keep up with what's happening when it all happens so far apart."

"Let me finish spraying the bathroom some more and I'll get ready," Don remarked and covered his mouth and nose.

The spray nozzle sparked and aroma zoomed into the bathroom. By the time Donatello terminated the procedure, Splinter had howled that Raphael was surely going to get a job and that Donatello was the next one to see China.

* * *

His stomach wasn't the only thing feeling punchy by now. Raphael took a detour through the park and then vomited in the bushes. Too bad a cat had to take on most of the damage.

Feeling loads better, he took a rest on a bench and thought he heard familiar German accents in the distance. These days, his hearing had a dull ring to it but he could still pick up foreign sounds. One of the voices was coming closer to him.

When he saw Abigail whip around the corner, she saw him but jogged passed him like he was an inanimate object.

"You saw me, whippersnapper!" he bellowed and wiped his mouth. "Say good morning to your Sensei!"

"Something smells funny over here. I mean, other than you." She had to be the one of the sassiest little kids he ever met. She needed a punch in her jaw.

"I unloaded my guts in the bush over there. Look here for a sec," Raphael wildly grinned and pointed at the cat crawling out of the shrubbery. "That cat used to be white!"

"You're gross," she spewed and continued on her merry way.

"If you're here, your momma ain't far behind, right?" He shouted at her. When she didn't stop, he threw on his face mask and rushed to her side.

"Good morning, Sensei," Abigail sweetly greeted. "That means you can leave now!"

"How is she? I mean, she didn't look so good the other day," Raph asked. He stepped over an icy patch on the sidewalk.

"Fine. She's all good."

"Good to hear."

They jogged in silence until they turned another corner, and Raphael saw the Mother.

"...and some stranger in a mask and coat," Emyrs' voice floated. Apparently, she had been talking to someone.

"Mother, I found this on the sidewalk. We might have to call animal control or the police."

That kid was really crawling up his ass now. He had his mask still covering his mouth but Raphael mumbled out some pretty nasty phrases. He just needed to get that off his chest like the vomit he just expelled from his body.

Emyrs squished her eyes at him but it finally clicked. "Good morning, Fido!"

He swung at Abigail but missed her and she continued her walk. Everybody was taking a stab at him this morning and he had had quite enough.

"Kids and no respect." He removed his gloves.

Emyrs shouted after her daughter, "Not too far! Stay in sight, please!"

"If they kidnap her, they'll bring her back," Raph barked. "I would!"

Emyrs looked passed him, smiled, and shrugged. Raphael looked to his left and noticed Lisa finally. His face lit up.

"Hey, you!" he teased. "Sorry about yesterday! I, uh, got caught up in some personal troubles with friends. You know how that goes and all."

She was so delicate with how she placed her glasses in the bag. "I got busy, but a phone call would have been nice."

He felt a nervous flutter. "Can I make it up to you?"

Lisa possessed an intense stare, not a bad or evil one, just.. a mesmerizing stare, like she knew what you were thinking but still wanted you to say it. It made him that much more bothered.

"Maybe. It's very pretty this morning. I had to get out here and see it."

Raphael sat on the bench and felt his stomach go a little tipsy-tervy again. "New York can have its nice moments. You should see spring if you haven't."

He glanced up and saw Emyrs walking in Abigail's direction. There was a rustle of commotion in that direction, too, but he ignored it.

"I will do that. Thank you."

"Whatcha reading?"

"A romance novel. I'm sure you haven't read it. Very trashy and romance-y."

He chuckled and shifted. Raphael had actually read some of April's romance books a few years ago, out of curiosity. Okay, actually out of a drunk dare from Casey. Raphael wasn't drunk at the time when he read the novels but he wished he had been. He was grossed out (and stiff) for days. It was terrifying for him at the age of sixteen.

A whistle popped in his right ear. "SPYING ON YOUR BROTHER!" He turned to see Emyrs looking back at him.

That could mean only thing. The hills had eyes.

"They better NOT be spying on me! I'll find ya and whoop your tails!"


	30. Chapter 26c :: One

_Synopsis: The Group Date wasn't so bad after all, Raphael realizes, even if he was the butt of the jokes among three females. Nobody wanted to part at the end of the adventure, especially Lisa, who trotted back to her apartment and to her stuffy partner, a fox lady named Umeko._

* * *

The crowd of skaters slowly transformed into a messy, blurry splash. The wind lathered her cheeks and hair as her feet glided across the platform. It reminded Lisa of her entertainer job but with much more personal satisfaction. Having a friend by her side, not a partner, was nice for a change. Being surrounded by stable friends was an even better replacement.

Of course being thoughtlessly lost meant that she left her friend, Raphael, behind and misplaced in the crowd. Her skates stopped and she poked around the mesh of people to catch a glimpse of her missing "date". She called his name a few times but no Raphael.

Lisa scudded back to the entrance and waited for him to make the circle back. Another familiar face flickered in the far distance. She didn't want the day or her good mood ruined so she retreated to the seats. Sooner or later, the reclusive lady would catch up with her friends.

_Five hours earlier:_

The forlorn mornings held a tighter grip around her neck with each passing day. It consumed her for a majority of her days. She wondered if spending time with Raphael and Emyrs were making things worse for her, but after many, many agonizing reflections, she knew the feeling was always there, brewing under the surface. When she had to leave either one of them, Lisa would stand outside their door for a few quiet moments. Then, she would realize how creepy she felt and made the way back to her bleak apartment.

Brewing, brewing. Oh, the coffee, Lisa remembered. Right.

The ceramic mug heated from the hot liquid. Her fingers cupped the mug and she sat at the table, flipping through the morning paper. The sun hadn't broken through the clouds yet and there wasn't a peep from the other tenants. Mister Dover, upstairs, was a peculiar man who kept exotic pets and carried a picture frame of his dead wife around his neck; he was a sweetheart and always gave Lisa a cake on Sundays. Those cakes were fantastic! They were also his wife's recipes, which made them even more special. Saturday nights at work were usually a hair-ball frenzy and a half so having a delicious, savory cake on Sunday was one of her stress busters. She had never been in his apartment before, and when she tried to invite herself one time, he freaked out and explained behind the door that he couldn't invite anyone in or his dead wife would curse him for the rest of his life. Peculiar, like Lisa stated. Good cakes though.

Hampton, the next door neighbor, was a thirty-something year old who had an incredibly well-paying job, but he lived in this "dump" (his words) to hide his fortune. His mother had been a crack addict for most of his life, and when Hampton landed the satisfying job, she harassed him to no end. Fortunately, the crack had melted her brain and she wasn't smart enough to track him down any longer. Most of his family members, he said, were all leeches, except for his sister. Lisa didn't know if she was his blood sister or half or step because she caught them making out several times, and the pair wasn't shy about their relationship. It didn't matter to Lisa because it wasn't any of her business, but the first three times she saw them together like that puzzled her. Nowadays, it was routine and she waved at them when she left for the bar. She thought she overheard Hampton saying that his mother was finally popped the other day and that in the next life, maybe the mother wouldn't screw over an ex-con pimp who had a military record for killing the most female enemies.

And then there was Umeko.

"International section, please."

Lisa handed over the paper without looking up. She knew Umeko's sunrise pattern: entering the apartment through the kitchen window, rearranging Lisa's counter and table items, sniffing the coffee, checking to see if the creamer was in-date, flushing the toilet, folding Lisa's bed sheets (properly), sweeping the kitchen floor, making Lisa's lunch; and then wanting the international section of the paper followed by the editorials, the front page, the classifieds, and Garfield. She secretly loved Garfield.

Lisa thought about getting a pet, maybe a small dog or gerbil, but she had Umeko. She couldn't pet Umeko on her furry head, though. That would make her go into a fit of rage and flush the toilet or sniff the coffee again. Even worse, the fox lady would shred the paper with her sword. That had been a fun morning.

The house guest mumbled something in Japanese and probably something about Japan, her homeland, while reading the international section. It didn't sound too pleasing. The internal conversation carried on for a few more minutes as Lisa finished off her coffee and the sun was creeping through the kitchen window. Newspaper time was over even though not even half of the paper had been read.

"Your bread is moldy," Umeko's croaky voice commanded. Lisa almost thought to salute while she was responding.

"I'm going out for a while so I'll get some. Do you need anything?"

The amber eyes looked up at Lisa. "Shoes."

Lisa grabbed a notepad and pen. "Size?"

"Nine." Her thick Japanese accent was cute.

"Nine? Your feet don't look that big."

Umeko huffed. "I need a pedicure."

"Maybe later."

Going anywhere with Umeko involved teeth grinding, face palming, and shouting. Umeko knew enough English to maneuver her way around the city, but her temper was atrocious. Lisa nicknamed her the Wild Kat, and when Lisa accidentally let it slip one day on the train, Umeko scared everyone off it. And do you know how hard that is to do in New York City? The lizard lady closed her eyes and wanted to die that day while Umeko cursed, shouted, and drew her sword.

"You are being replaced next week."

And that was the threat every week: that Lisa was going to be replaced by someone who was more competent, more skilled, less provocative, not a stupid gecko/lizard/salamander, less flirty, and more like Umeko: the personality of a brick wall.

"Then who is going to get the bread? Your shoes? Your pedicure?"

Umeko sniffed the coffee for the third time. "I am going back to Japan. You are on your own."

Another Threat of the Week. At first, Lisa wanted her partner to leave, go back to Japan and stay for a zillion years, but after the last month of mornings like this together and smiling at Umeko's quirky quirks, Lisa hoped Umeko would never break the haphazard friendship.

"You need money to go unless you plan on hitchhiking on a boat."

"I can do that. You have money stashed under your mattress." Umeko moved on to the editorials; it was really about to get heated in that little kitchen now.

"It wouldn't be very comfortable and you could get arrested. _I _could have you arrested for sniffing under my mattress."

The Wild Kat scoffed.

Lisa washed her cup and dried her hands. "I'm going for a walk in the park. I might be gone a while. I won't forget the bread." Forgetting the bread might mean a hole in the wall.

A long, screechy sound upstairs startled Umeko. She looked wildly towards Lisa for the answer to the mysterious sound.

"That was a rooster, Umeko."

"Rooster?!" The way she couldn't pronounce her r's was adorable; it sounded like 'looster'.

Mister Dover had a barnyard fowl in his possession. It always beat Umeko to the window, but it was a bit late this morning.

It was a shame that mornings with Umeko was the only good time they shared together. For the rest of the day and into the night, it was 'we must do this for Mei-sama' or 'you go here; I go there'. Orders, orders, orders. That's all Umeko knew what to do, apparently. Lisa was going to see through her duties and obligations, but lately it seemed like everything was at a stand-still and Lisa couldn't just stop her life that she began. Even Umeko didn't know what in the world was going to happen.

Until the next big move, Lisa was going to try and enjoy her mundane life.

The park was peaceful, and she wanted to finish reading a section of the paper followed by a romance novel that had caught her attention in the grocery store. She didn't consider herself very romantic, or in the woo-ing department, but when she read the synopsis, she read the first chapter .. and then the second, and third, and finally she needed to pay for it. It was the story of an angel sent from heaven who fell in love with a disabled woman. Somehow, the author's writing style captured her imagination despite the story being highly predictable. Oh, Iofiel and Amanda. Their banter and relationship made Lisa turn each page, thirsting for more. Poor Umeko had spent a couple of mornings sniffing the coffee and sweeping the floor in silence. Lisa almost forgot to go over to the Jones' apartment and carry out the first big task because Iofiel was being a wuss and not spilling out his feelings.

She hurried through reading the paper and snatched open her book. Today, Amanda's disease was flaring up and Iofiel was off doing his angel duties, saving the world, or something. Lisa wanted the two to hurry up and make out. The chapter was screaming for a hot steamy scene!

His shirt ripped up from a fight and muscles glowing, Iofiel returned to Amanda's home. She was screaming in pain on the floor, and Iofiel dashed to her side! A manly man! But somehow, Amanda was screaming with a German accent? Lisa thought Amanda was an American? What was going on in her literary brain?

Lisa's world shattered and she was back in the chilly park. She heard the German accent again in the distance.

"_Forty-five years of my ugly face on this planet!"_

A smirk appearing across her face, Lisa clearly recognized the accent and voice even before the birthday lady Emyrs Becker walked around the corner.

Victoriously, Raphael skated through the crowds and beamed so brightly, it could replace the hiding sun. His dumb, spying brothers had been caught and had scampered away. They were all trained ninjas; did they think he forgot to be aware of his surroundings, even with all of the people in the rink? Donatello was way too obvious with a flickering camera. Raphael knew they could have hidden better than they did. Their main goal must have been to aggravate the holy hell out of him. Leonardo was a little harder to find but his ego gave him away. You could see that thing for miles.

In the attempt to lure out his sneaky relatives, Raphael lost his date. Fantastic, he mumbled, and the smile disappeared as he glided around the crowd. Being around so many people, even in a huge rink, was making him a little nervous. He toured the city regularly, but this had been the first time in ages that he actually mingled with such a large crowd. Integrating with humans wasn't such an easy task, especially for someone who had spent a majority of his life hiding from them. Splinter had cautioned them to take it slow and always be alert. Raphael didn't think it would be so bad, but over time, it has proved to be tougher each day. He and his family were a part of the bottom minority and very, very low on the totem pole of society.

Trying to push the negativity aside, he slipped out of the rink and looked for his party around the entrance. Lisa was deep into her book again and a group of teenagers blocked her from Raphael's view. He passed by the group and headed towards the restaurant. The Celsuis was a classy-looking establishment and something that Lisa would frequent, Raphael mused; however, he wasn't dressed to the nines and almost didn't go inside. He wanted to walk around the building and flag her down through the windows but that would more than likely garner him some terrible looks.

As he opened the door, Emyrs crashed into him. Some of her beverage spilled onto his coat.

"Oh, shoot!" she spewed and used her scarf to wipe his coat. "Raphael, I wasn't watching anything. I'm sorry!"

"You're drowning me here, old lady!" he howled and she wanted to hide under her scarf. He was drawing attention with his very loud voice.

Emyrs blushed and motioned for him to move out of the doorway. "Back, back, please."

"I'm looking for Lisa. Was she in there with you?"

"No." Emyrs wiped his coat a little more. "You lost her?"

"My stupid brothers distracted me!"

She looked at his face and noticed that when he looked back at her, he had a bit of a lazy left eye. Weird how one notices little things.

"God, there I go again," she said aloud and was still staring at him.

"Where are you going? Are you okay?" Raphael felt of her forehead.

Emyrs sucked up more beverage and averted his strong gaze. "Let's go find your date."

The search for Raphael's Date continued. Emyrs was noticing that she and Raphael were getting more stares from people, and it seemed like there were even fewer non-humans mingling in the crowd than before.

She felt a strong grasp on her arm.

"It's easy to lose someone in this crowd. You're walking too fast. I got skates on! Slow down!"

She sighed and drank more beverage.

The first party member located was Abigail, who was still waiting patiently for her mother. When she saw the Arm, her little light green face turned red.

" Before you go ballistic," Raphael stopped the testy tween and immediately let go of the Mother's arm, "I am **NOT **doing anything with your mother!"

Emyrs hid under her scarf again from the noise and smiled at him as he stormed away. Abigail bore a hole through his back. The elder Becker watched Raphael find Lisa; he knew she was reading her book and almost scared her to death. She playfully hit him with the book and he chuckled, sitting next to her and putting his arm around her.

"Mother?"

She gazed down at Abigail, who was still sitting and gave her mother an obscure look.

"Yeah?" Emyrs slurped on the straw.

"Should we go? We don't have to stay here."

"Why? I'm okay."

Abigail stood and straightened her mother's scarf and coat. "Why is your scarf a little wet?"

"Spilled this," Emyrs tiled the cup. "Let's go skate."

When Emyrs turned around, she slung the cup on the floor and as she bent down to get it, she bumped into a couple of people.

"Sorry!" she squeaked and looked up to see a familiar bleached-blond hair and sour expression.

"Hello," Emyrs mumbled and remembered the girls as the grumpy cashiers from that store.

"Move," the bleached-blond snapped and pushed Emyrs aside as they continued walking. She dropped her cup again, but the second girl kicked it out of her grasp.

"Hey!" Abigail screamed and moved in front of her mother. "She apologized! What's your problem?!"

The two girls giggled and kept walking. Emyrs regained her balance and put up her hand to stop Abigail, who was about stomp after them.

"Not here," her mother demanded. "_Not _here, Abigail."

"If they touch or talk to you again like that, I will do something," the daughter threatened and walked ahead of her guardian.

Her beverage had spilled onto the ground now so she unwrapped her scarf and used it to soak up the liquid. She stuffed the damp scarf into a free coat pocket and trotted back to the rink. Abigail was standing guard by the entrance, almost puffing out her chest. Cute.

Raphael had overheard (and silently watched) the entire altercation while Lisa was nose-deep back into Romance Land.

Another hour in the rink presented no trouble, and the Troupe could skate in peace. Abigail had gotten carried away with going too fast and caused her frazzled mother to slip and cut her finger under another skater's blade. This time, Raphael was the one chastising Abigail. The tween couldn't fight back, and didn't want to, because Raphael was right and her face and heart were sullen. She got too excited again.

"You can't monkey around with your mother like that! She's old and crippled!"

"Crippled?" Lisa and Emyrs mouthed to each other.

Abby used a handkerchief to dry her mother's hand. "Forgive me, Mother. I will do all of the chores tonight."

"You're damn right you will!" Raphael was now pointing his finger down at her. "Look at the blood on the ice! If I did that to my father, my jaw would be on the floor!"

" There are just couple of droplets. I'm not gushing," the elder turtle groaned. "Thanks for your concern, _Daddy_."

Lisa grinned as Raphael turned an unexpected shade of red and put away the finger.

The next stop was at a thrift store where Abigail's spirits were raised again when she and her mother donned a tacky assortment of clothes and made faces into their cameras. Lisa was reluctant to join the fun at first and when she did, she couldn't find anything tacky; her sense of fashion way too steep and she always ended up looking incredible. Emyrs flashed a couple of shots and said she was going to make some extra money from them somehow.

There was no way those silly girls were going to involve Raphael in their scheme, but one puppy-dog look from Lisa (and her hot body rubbing on him) later, he was dressed like a islander tourist. The camera nearly blinded him, and he had to steal Emyrs' camera away from her grasp. Abigail stood back and watched the fiasco. She thought she caught a glimpse of Donatello outside, and it probably was him. To add insult to injury, Abigail motioned for her mother to move Raphael closer to the window so that his brothers could see him. The employees had never heard such a commotion before in their store! The Troupe was almost kicked out of the place.

Abigail had a craving for ice cream and purchased a cake for her mother. Emyrs commented that if her hips didn't break on her birthday, they were going to bloat from the sweets. Raphael tore into the cake before the birthday girl was just about to cut her piece, but he swore that he thought she already had her piece. As he sat dumbfounded and boiling with regret, the ladies all tore off a piece and shoved cold, creamy cake into the sloppy mutant's face. It was delightful, it was rewarding, it was revenge so sweet. Emyrs almost dropped her camera into the cake from laughing so hard.

"Lisa!" Em screeched and pointed to Raphael's face. They wouldn't let him out of the booth to go wash his face. Emyrs told Abigail to hurry and take a picture on her command.

When the countdown from three to one occurred, both ladies licked the cake off his face, which sent him into a frenzy and he immediately rocketed over the booth and to the bathroom. Abigail was almost too disgusted to snap a photo. Emyrs excused herself and left for the ladies room since she almost pissed herself laughing.

"That is beautiful! He looks like a cartoon character!" Lisa shrieked while looking at the photo and licked her fingers. Abigail stuck out her tongue.

"The both of you probably need to sterilize your mouths now!" she gagged. Lisa took off her sweater and placed it in the booth. Abigail noticed a glimmer on Lisa's wrist.

"How pretty! Your jewelry. Do you own a lot?"

Lisa twisted the piece around her wrist. "I do. I can't go anywhere without them!"

Abby smiled and remembered the piece of jewelry she found on the kitchen floor the previous night. Did it belong to Lisa? Mother didn't remember what she did on Monday, and there was no way she drank an entire bottle of alcohol. Could there be a connection between Lisa and Mother's memory lapse?

She nibbled on some cake while Lisa rambled on about her book.

Raphael scrubbed the crackling pastry off his face and had the worst case of awkwardness. He had expected Lisa to do something crazy like licking the cake off his face (and he had wanted her to do that) but old lady Em? He didn't know whether to be amused or shocked. After the cake trickled down the drain, Raphael secretly smiled to himself.

He swung open the door and as it closed, the ladies' door opened and out came Emyrs, feeling a pound lighter.

"You're not too sticky, are you?" she stuttered, trying not to laugh again.

Raphael smacked his lips. "Vanilla is a good flavor on me! Nah, I'm cool."

She nervously closed her door and wiped her hands on her jeans. "As long as you're okay with it. I know we're picking on you for being the only male."

"I'm just glad you three ain't my brothers," Raph moaned. "There would be more than cake on my face and the restaurant would be in shambles."

They laughed and started their way back to the lounge. She walked ahead of him, and he was noticing a slight limp to her walk and a nervous twitch on her right hand. He didn't want to spoil a good moment by picking out flaws; he knew women didn't like that sort of thing, especially on their birthdays.

The Troupe reluctantly separated after leaving the ice cream store. Emyrs and Abigail wanted to tour more of New York and have a mother-daughter evening together; Raphael and Lisa waved to them for the longest time until the two disappeared in the crowd.

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa chimed and looked back to him. Her date was staring off into the distance.

She continued calmly. "Would you like to go with them?"

"I can't shake this feeling."

"What?"

His eyes were tense. "I'm okay. Just mumbling."

Their date was cut short when Raphael explained that he had to get something off his chest. He left Lisa at her doorstep, and she could hear Hampton and his sister inside, cooing and probably cuddling. She really didn't want him to leave; she really didn't want any of her Troupe to leave. Hampton and his love ignored her as she walked by, and it was back to the dreary apartment again.

Before Lisa unlocked her door, she immediately remembered the bread so she zoomed back out of the building and towards the store. Hell hath no fury than an Umeko scorned.


	31. Chapter 27 :: Baby

_Synopsis: Lisa's mornings are full of coffee, Umeko, and a romance novel. _

_The Troupe ended their wacky evening on a high note, but Raphael can't shake a strange feeling in the air.  
_

* * *

_A/N - Kick the baby! Don't kick the baby. - M_

* * *

"Rosie, get down. There's not enough room up here. Sorry, sweetie."

Reluctantly, Rosie the frustrated kitty vacated the premises. Mike almost heard a huff coming from his cat. When he reclined back on the bed, he smiled over at his slumbering partner. She was incredibly cute while she slept. The holiday music humming in the background embraced the sweet moment.

He knew the situation was beyond weird, beyond anything that held some kind of sense in his world. He never left the room anymore (not that he did much anyways). He could feel himself losing more weight, and it was odd that his body never had an appetite. A small part of his mind knew he was being trapped, but these feelings soothed Mike. She never ignored him; she never left him, never screamed, never ridiculed, and never made him sad.

"What are you thinking?" her foreign accent bellowed. He still didn't know where she was from originally; he had been meaning to ask her.

Mike titled his head and smiled.

"I promised you, Michelangelo," she groaned as she sat up and peered down at him, "that I would give my situation more thought."

"And?" He heard Rosie scamper under the bed, still in a huff.

"I think I will just visit with my daughter. I will not take her from Ms. Becker."

Mike rubbed her cheek. "Good."

She leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. "It is almost the Christmas holiday that you said you loved. You should see your family."

His blue eyes fluttered. "Will you be here when I get back, Mei? We've been inseparable for days."

While she beamed down at him and squeezed his fingers, Mike realized that even after being with her for those exclusive days, he still didn't know too much about her. All I knew was that he felt safe and comfortable.

It was ages before she responded, which frightened him, but when she did speak, her voice remained softened. "As long as you want me to be here, I will."

The bed springs creaked as he rose from his pillow. Rosie scurried from the bed and hissed at Mike. He knew he was in big trouble with that feline.

Rosie's reddish-orange fur became less muted and back to its original, bright color as his mental haze dissipated. Mike looked behind him. She wasn't there anymore. He could see clearly now but his chest felt heavy.

"Rosie," he began and undressed out of his whiffy garments, "I'll make it up to you, kitty, promise."

The cat repeatedly clawed her itchy tail. The holiday music streaming from the stereo ceased.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Rosie stopped, shook her head, and gazed at her master.

"Don't tell anyone that I may be sleeping with the enemy."

* * *

Abigail held the paper, but her hands shook and almost dropped it. The unexpected raging cold wind didn't make anything better.

"Don't want to do this," she stammered and straightened her loose hat.

"Follow my lead," Emyrs chuckled and tucked her daughter's hat firmly on the head. "I love your hair so much, Abby, but it's a pain with headgear."

Abby sighed. "I hear that every winter."

"We might have to trim it a bit, around the sides, and some off the top."

"Don't talk about my hair like it's a bush outside our cottage!"

Emyrs laughed at her testy daughter whose arms were flailing, and the wind knocked off her hat (again). While Abby moaned and whined more, Emyrs picked up the headpiece and stuffed it in her own pocket.

"Skip the hat. That rat's nest will keep you warm."

Abigail's flaming pupils banished her mother and wondered over Irma's apartment complex. It was littered with silly holiday decorations around the windows. Pedestrians milling back and forth, the numerous honks and vehicle sounds from the street, and holiday music trickling from the shops intensified her anxiety.

Mother wanted to go caroling. They were going to die horrible deaths on a New York City street, at night, and a million miles from their German graveyard plots.

"We are not going to die, Abigail."

Abby swallowed. "I think I just saw my first attacker. He had one evil look and I hadn't hummed a note yet."

Emyrs flapped her music sheets in the wind. "We practiced, over and over! You sounded great!"

"Casey didn't think so."

Her mother frowned slightly. "Casey was just joking. He can't even sing a birthday song, either."

"We're tourists! And we're going to SING?"

Her red hair was on fire. Those arms could almost lift her into the air now, they were motoring so hard.

"Then go home."

Abigail calmed down and lost her breath for a second. She replayed her mother's bitter words in her head and was speechless.

"Go home if you don't want to participate. You know the way."

There was Mother's mood shift again. She studied her music sheets and acted like Abigail had already turned to go back to Casey's. This radical change was becoming more frequent now.

"I'll join in," Abigail's voice flew in the wind. "But I'm not going to protect you from tomatoes."

She peeked over at her mother, who still wasn't smiling, not even at Abigail's terrible attempt at humor. It was going to be a long, traumatic evening.

* * *

The store chime rang through the building. Raphael trolled to the back freezer, snagged a six pack, grabbed munchies on his way to the counter, and slammed his purchases in front of the cashier.

"Good evening to you, Raph," she snapped. Her fingers tapped away on the register.

"Megan," his voice rolled as he slid his fingers in his pocket. "I got a bone to pick with you and your bleached headed girlfriend."

Megan didn't answer.

"I saw what you did to my friend today. I thought she was telling a fib some weeks ago about you two trying to cheat me."

She glared at Raph and continued ringing up the purchases.

"Thought you girls were cool with me and my type."

Steam rising from his face, Raphael dug out his cash and handed it to her.

"Don't mess with my friends. Aight? I don't mess with yours. That was the agreement."

Megan consciously covered up her lavender basilisk tattoo while bagging his groceries.

"Raphael?"

He turned to see Lisa standing in front of the door with the store chime fading. Her flirty smile disappeared when she saw his sour face.

"Hi," he said and looked away from her.

Megan scooted his bag on the counter towards him and nodded. Raphael heavily watched her as he stomped to the door.

"Bye?" Lisa asked as she saw her friend hastily leave the store. She wanted to go after him but when he continued walking away from the building, she felt it was unnecessary. She grabbed her loaf of bread and tried to be cheerful towards the crossed cashier.

"He's your friend?" Megan asked.

"Yeah. We've hung out a bit. He's not too bad, just pouts."

Megan bagged the bread and returned the change. "Thanks and watch your back out there."

As Lisa left, she didn't like the way the cashier had said those words. Lisa had seen the cashier many times since Lisa shopped there frequently, but something didn't feel right: the looks on their faces when she entered the store, Raphael barely saying a word to her when he usually talked her head off, and cashier's words that sounded more like a threat than a goodbye.

When she got home, she quickly put in a sick call to work, just to be safe. Umeko would have to use the front door in the morning. All of the windows were going to be locked tight.

* * *

April, Shadow, and Irma's family listened to the singing Germans outside their window. It was magically catastrophic at first, but as Abigail's voice warmed up, the harmony lightly blended. "Jingle Bells" was a mess; their accents and tempos flew around the place. "Winter Wonderland" almost made Shadow cry. "The Twelve Days of Christmas" felt like twelve years and it was mostly Emyrs singing since Abigail lost her place on the sheet. They had to stop after that to get some water and explain to a passing cop that they were almost finished with their racket. It was hilarious to see Abigail hiding behind her mother.

"Sing Silent Night as the closing number," April requested. "In German."

"Yes, in your own language, please!" complained Irma. She bounced her hyper son on her hip.

"May we sing Rudolph for the kids first?" Emyrs screamed from the busy street.

"Just-" April stopped to scream louder, "Just Stille Nacht! We'll be good after that! Come on up!"

Emyrs and Abigail fumbled on ground level. They had to sing that one from memory since the sheet was missing, and the half-breed's arms flapped knowing that she had to sing in German, too.

Mike was watching the spectacle from a sparse crowd. He grinned when Emyrs whacked her daughter on the shoulder to keep Abby from flapping anymore. They were fighting in the German language, too. That was cute. And loud.

They stood to attention and cleared their throats.

_Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!  
Alles schläft; einsam wacht _

Abigail warbled through her lyrics. Hold steady, little lady, Mike wished for her.

_Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.  
Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar_

Mike hummed along with the tune and remembered last Christmas when Leonardo and Raphael re-enacted the "Night before Christmas" for the family. They lost a bet earlier that month against Casey and Donatello.

_Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! _

Emyrs hit the high note beautifully; Abigail remained low key. She got it, she got it.

_Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh..._

The performance wasn't all that bad; the crowd even clapped. When Emyrs asked if anyone wanted them to sing the next verse, nobody answered. People even scattered away. Mike walked up to the singers and gave them each a hug.

"You can sing it inside," he recommended, and he had to help Abigail into the building and up the stairs.

* * *

"Josh!"

Irma caught the tumbling toddler before he fell onto a scooting Shadow.

April made a quick glance into the living room to check on her daughter and then unlocked the front door. She was very surprised to see Mike with the two Singing Tourists.

"Good show, ladies!" April teased and then promptly hugged Mike in a tight embrace.

"My shoulder still hurts from Mother's slap," Abby moaned and pulled off her coat. Emyrs shrugged and placed her coat on the rack.

Checking Mike over from head to toe, April frowned. "You don't look so hot, Mike. Have you been eating?"

"Not really."

"I know you can cook for yourself. Are you sick?"

"No."

Irma peeked around the corner. "I know what it is!"

Mike gave a friendly sigh. He knew what was coming.

"It's a girl!" Irma squealed.

"A girl?" April, Emyrs, and Abigail spoke in unison.

"But I thought Rosie was your only girl!" April goaded, her brown curls bouncing. She looked much more lively than she had in months, Mike noticed.

"Rosie is mad at me right now. No comment," he chuckled and joined the ladies in the living room. Josh, Irma's half-breed son, was reaching for Irma's pink straw hat. When Shadow saw her Uncle Mike, her butterball body went slick as lightning across the floor towards him.

"Keep your hands off that, son!" desperate Irma squeaked and popped Josh's hand. The toddler's gray eyes flickered and he went back to reaching for the hat.

April dusted snow off Abigail's fluffy hair. "Shadow knows more words, Mike! She says baby, Josh, no, and stop."

"And most of that is from me," groaned Irma who slapped her son's hand again. He plopped on the floor and remained still.

Mike gave Shadow a mini-bear hug and laughed at her. "I missed you the most, pretty girl."

She rubbed her hands on his face and cooed, "Boo."

"Boo!" he whispered back to her; she chortled.

Abigail had been watching the toddler Josh sitting and peering at everyone in the room. He wasn't the most attractive kid, being a half bred turtle and human, but his mannerisms were fascinating. Since he was unique, he had to adapt differently from other children. Abigail knew that melancholic existence all too well.

She crawled over to Josh and put out her hands.

"Hi. I'm Abby."

Josh nibbled on his finger and slapped her hand, like he was giving her high five or reprimanding her.

"Now hold out your hand," Abby demonstrated and extended his chubby hand. She gave him a high five back with a wide smile.

"Thank you!"

Josh didn't know what in the world was going on with that crazy-looking red head who still had white powder all in her hair.

"Mike, tell us about this girl!" April sat with her elbows on her knees, waiting literally on the edge of her seat. "Can we meet her?"

He hesitated. "She's a bit shy."

Shadow's hand kept bopping his face, which disabled him from speaking about the girlfriend subject. He was hoping April would get the hint and drop it. None of the ladies would really understand because he didn't really have a clue about it either.

When Josh became uninterested in Abigail's pattycake game, she looked back to her quiet mother. Emyrs was inspecting her hands and then rolled up her right pants' leg to check on an old wound. Again, Abigail knew, her mother wouldn't act this anti-social. If there was a talk about babies or girlfriends, Emyrs would be in the middle of it.

Her guardian looked up to meet her daughter's stare and promptly stuck out her tongue and smiled. A little better, Abby eased.

"Stop by on Christmas eve, Mike. We'll feed you and your lady," invited Irma, complete with the cheekiest grin. Mike impassively grinned back and nodded.

Josh crawled towards Emyrs and used her legs to stand on his two feet. Irma shouted for him, but he stuck to Emyrs' leg like glue.

"Go back to your mother. She's calling for you!" she teased. Only Abby noticed the sarcastic tone of voice her mother used.

Josh savagely bit into Emyrs' leg, and with a yelp, she hurled him across the room. The toddler gracefully landed on his bottom and didn't make a sound for some moments. Irma screamed for him and was on the verge of tears. That's when her kid had to cry as well.

Everyone checked on Josh, who was unhurt and only scared by the events. Abigail dashed to her mother who promptly pushed her away.

"Aren't you going to say you're sorry?" Irma screamed without looking back at Emyrs. "You threw a baby across the room!"

"I'm sorry that your kid can't fucking tell I'm not a piece of food!" Emyrs spewed and limped out of the room. She continued ranting in German and it very much made her daughter blush. She followed her mother out of the apartment and helped her down the stairs. When they made it to the bottom, Emyrs plopped on the last step.

"Goddamn that kid! Look at this!"

He got her really good, too. Abigail had noticed when she played with him that his teeth were much more developed than Shadow's. The bite wound was puffy, very red, and blood oozing out of it.

"Can you make it to Casey's?" Abby asked. "I can clean you up there."

Emyrs angrily whacked the side of the banister, almost hitting her daughter in the process. "If I had my trouser leg down, it wouldn't be so damn bad. Fuck, fuck!"

"Come," Abby whispered. "We're going home now."

Her mother persisted the ranting, even as they hobbled to the front door. Abigail heard April's shouts from the stairs, but Emyrs demanded for her not to pay attention and keep moving.

Abigail insisted on going to the hospital, but her mother viciously declined. Every other word was a curse, and she fluctuated between German and English, spewing and shaking. Abigail was walking on glass and decided not to say a word the entire trip "home".

"You bit Flodina one time. Age three," Emyrs said as she groaned and stopped at the front steps to the apartment. "She whacked you a good one and you never did it again. You had wild moments just like that kid had. Petting you wasn't going to solve anything."

"But you threw the kid across the room."

"He didn't orbit like all of you are saying. If he tries to bite someone when he gets older, he'll get a hard lesson in life. Somebody is going to knock the crap out of him."

"That's not your place, is it, Mother? To teach him."

"Everybody is your teacher!" Emyrs shifted and grabbed onto the railing. "We have to live together as a society, as one."

"But Miss Irma was scared. If somebody threw me across a room, would you not get angry?"

Emyrs was on her feet now and declined any more help. "That's the difference between me and the world, I guess. I can nurse this wound. Go to bed."

"Mother.."

The Eye occurred. Man, was it scary in the dark. Abigail couldn't and didn't want to argue with her mother anymore. The two parted ways once they reached the residence, and Abigail had to do one thing before she tucked herself in for the night. While her mother was in the upstairs bathroom, Abigail checked Emyrs' medicine bottles. The tablets looked okay and it seemed like her mother was taking the pills, but her behavior made no sense at all. She took a couple of tablets and tucked them away in her carry bag for further investigation.


	32. Chapter 28 :: Night Train

_Synopsis: The Dream is as confusing as The Truth. It's time for Mike to join the living once again, per Mei's wishes._

_Emyrs and Abigail Becker: The Singing Tourists who should not quit their dayjobs; Raphael's hot tongue might have kicked up trouble where it wasn't stirring in the first place. _

_A baby's playful nature can suddenly turn heated and just one accidental bite can set off a domino effect._

_

* * *

_

_A/N - Friends and a cold beer. Best setting ever. Emyrs' story is based on my friend's adventure. We all make silly mistakes. :) - M_

* * *

A hearty, guttural blend of music trickled from the living room. She hadn't seen anybody when she and Abigail entered but then it was pretty dark, and her leg throbbed like crazy. Maybe it was going to separate itself from her body and destroy the city of New York.

She hissed, gnawed, and slammed her fist onto the bathroom sink. That fist was beyond numb now, seeing way too much action in one evening. Emyrs didn't care about it. She did care, however, about the weird color her wound was turning and how the alcohol was eating her flesh like a rabid animal.

The more she cleaned the injury, the angrier she got. Angry that her finances were frozen, frustrated at her block headed daughter, sizzling at her best friend (and more importantly, house-sitter) back home who wasn't answering the telephone or returning her messages, completely baffled by her wayward crush, trashy discolored snooty cashiers, and a kid with a dinosaur's grip.

Despite more awful feelings grilling in her brain, her throat hummed the metal tunes coming from the living area. That song was popular when she was …. twenty two. No, twenty three. Twenty-something, she shrugged. Her mother blasted it out of the stereo more than she did, and Emyrs couldn't get away from it. It played at Flodina's house and Flodina's car and Flodina's work. When Emyrs didn't think she heard it a trillion times, the song exploded from the bar, too. Good thing its popularity died a couple of months after that and only to be replaced by something else more annoying. Her tolerance level had built a solid defense, she supposed, since nothing else really got under her skin after that song.

Five gallons of blood and a floor that resembled a war zone later, Emyrs gained her composure back and finished just in time to head to bed. She turned off the bathroom light and realized that she couldn't see her way back to the basement. The mood wasn't there to turn the light back on and fiddle with any nonsense so she remembered the layout of the room and felt her way through it.

"You better turn to the left or you'll-"

"Son of a -!"

The sharp edge of an object jabbed her in the side. At least it wasn't her leg. She froze and bit her tongue. And her guardian angel flicked on a lamp light.

Raphael waved from his place on the couch and slightly turned to look at her. "I thought I was having a bad night. Hop over here and grab a beer. On me."

Emyrs looked at the basement door and could feel her soft bed just inches from her aching body. Beer or bed? It repeated in her head many times. That fluffy pillow or that bubbling drink? Bubbling, soothing beverage that could knock out a few of her pains.

It didn't take long to reach the couch.

"The hell happened to your leg? Did you wrestle a gator? A cab driver? Casey?"

She winced as her body flopped into the sectional. He leaned over and looked at her wound up close.

"He tends to bite, ya know."

"Kinky," she blankly commented and lifted her leg onto the coffee table. Temporary relief.

"Put this cold beer on it."

Emyrs took the can, opened, and chugged it.

Raph scoffed and toasted his can towards her. "That'll work, too."

The festival of beer chugging commenced. They subconsciously competed with the other, but Raphael beat her by a few measly drops. He had a head start, after all. She was out of practice.

"Do you have this song on repeat?" she asked and covered her mouth as a little burp erupted.

"Yeah. I like it. Want me to change it?"

Her empty beer can clinked on the coffee table. "Play track three."

She held her head back and closed her eyes. A little beep trilled from the stereo, and she no longer had to suffer through the Timeless Headache.

Raphael blurted, "This song is cool. Reminds me of the times Leo and I had midnight runs."

"Sounds like you miss it."

He cracked open another can. "I do, but don't tell him that. Want another?"

"I think one will be fine for tonight," she rejected and didn't open her eyes. "It felt good to have a drink after a long time, though."

"It's your birthday, old lady. Guzzle it."

She held out her hand and a chilled container instantly fell into it. That was easy.

He switched off the lamp; a tiny amount of light fell through the window. Snow dribbled outside in the city, Track Three performed a dynamite guitar solo, and her leg's tremble was simmering into a dull ache.

Raphael smacked his lips. "I think I started up a gang war tonight. What happened to you?"

"I almost got arrested for bad caroling, and I punted a child across the room for gnawing into my leg like a piece of meat."

Track Three ended and shifted into Track Four. She wiggled her foot on the table in the silence.

"You win," he finally snickered, and she madly chuckled.

"The gang war sounds pretty promising."

A bag rustled in the darkness. "Track four blows balls. Can we change it?" Raphael munched loudly on some crisps.

"It's a good backtrack to some stories."

He garbled through a full mouth, "What kind of stories?"

"Anything. Anything to keep me from chopping off my leg and throwing it out that window."

She felt a plastic bag tap her shoulder.

"You want some?" His voice was subdued as he swallowed his food. Her tummy growled, but it clicked in her head that she sent Abigail to bed without any food.

"I'm a terrible parent," she sighed. "I'll skip, thanks."

From the way he crumbled up the bag, it sounded like a train running through the room. She saw his figure leave the couch and head to the bathroom. After listening to Track Four, she agreed that it blew balls. Track Five was taking its sweet time to play.

He returned to the couch, turned on the lamp light, and had a first aid kit in his grasp.

"Give me that leg," he snipped, unwrapping her sloppy bandages. "And you're not a terrible parent. Not that I've seen."

Emyrs jerked slightly when her male nurse slammed her leg onto his lap. She wanted to remind him that she wasn't one of his brick-house brothers, but the job would get completed in the end. Aches, bruises, scrapes, and all. Oh, and track four had ended. That part of the agony was over.

"What's the biggest regret in your life so far, Em?"

The music flowed with her thoughts. "Actually I have a funny story. This is even better than my regrets."

"Yeah?" He peered into her wound and muttered something about it.

"Don't shack up with a married person."

The nurse cackled. "Lay it on me."

She shuffled into a new position and gave a listen to Track Five. It was skipping. "I was twenty-one, shy, and stupid. Hot guy and I hooked up. He was much older and said that he and his wife had separated."

"You fell for that?" He was now cleaning the wound, gently cleaning at that. She couldn't believe that he had a soft touch.

"I fell for that. Young and stupid. He was nice, hot, handsome, tall, opened my doors, and.."

Raphael poured alcohol into her wound; that made her yelp. "And he eventually opened you, right?"

"Yeah," she moaned and laughed. "And it was fantastic."

"But the wife didn't think it was a good idea," he teased and began wrapping the leg.

"Get this!" Emyrs started vividly reenacting the incident. "She slammed on his front door one day and screamed that she knew I was in there and 'the bitch' was about to die. I had never heard of the things she called me on that day."

They were both laughing now.

"She sounded like a wailing monkey, no kidding. And I had to escape somehow. I didn't even get my clothes on all the way before I had to dive out that window! And I think I missed it the first time."

"Dumbass," her nurse chastised and flattened the wrap.

"So, moral of my story: ask to see the divorce papers."

"Did the guy ever come looking for you?"

The cd player was officially frozen. No music now. "He tried to call me, but that wife of his scared me. He did divorce her some time after that and came looking for me again."

"You go back to him?"

"Hell no," she waved her hand to dismiss the very idea of it, "I moved on. I didn't date for the longest because I was so traumatized."

Raphael roared and thought of his friend's flimsy body trying to make it through a window without her clothes on and some crazy wench hollering obscenities at the front door. He didn't think she was the type to get in trouble like that.

"I should let you read my journal one day, Raphael. I'll send some stories back to you when I get home. You'll get a kick out of it."

"You ever read April's?" he cocked one eye at her.

"Briefly. And she let me read it by the way. It was a marvelous tribute to you and your siblings."

He barked, "I'll send you the true accounts one day."

He noticed the cd player was quiet and shut it off. His laughter had subsided.

She noticed that he hadn't put down her leg and was still holding on to it. It did feel a little better after his help.

"Em," he whispered, "Watch your back wherever you go. I hope that I didn't screw anything up by what I did today."

Her leg was placed gently back on the coffee table.

"Need help going to bed?" Raphael's face fell extremely dark.

"No. I'm okay."

The leg was a little heavy, but as she started walking again, it eased up.

"Happy birthday, Ms. Becker. I won't see you for a little while, but anytime you need me, just call."

He had already sat back in his old spot and opened another can.

"I hope it'll be before I leave. Don't go hiding too well from me."

No response from the couch.

"Good night."

When she opened the basement door, she heard the lamp switch click.

He was back in the darkness again. Emyrs had just left the room, and his eyes bore a hole in Mike's bedroom door. Ever since he returned from the store, an unearthly feel penetrated from that area. Raphael kept the privacy around his body and wanted to leap at the first thing that came from that room. It was time to open the door. Fear drove his brewing blood and ignited a higher faculty.

A scratching behind the door caused him to furiously swing it open, and if the pungent smells didn't hit him first, it was an angry feline nipping at his ankles.

"Damn. Sorry, Rosie!" he called to her in the dark.

He wasn't a shining example of good hygiene himself, but Mike's room was awful. Raph had been in there a few times, and it was never this bad before. It was a detrimental sign and even more so if a cat couldn't stand to be in it.

A silver wisp quivered in the far left corner of the room, near Mike's bed. Raphael remained in place and waited for it to happen again.

Magic. Supernatural. Illusion.

It looked and felt like it. It had an airy sensation, and if one wasn't in the proper state of mind or had the right amount of training, it could cause some serious troubles, Raphael retained.

And Mike hadn't been in a proper state of mind for a long time.


	33. Chapter 29 :: Isolation

_Synopsis: Raphael Hamato and Emyrs Becker have found the most unlikely of friendships and under a snowy night full of guitar cries. One will disappear; the other will become lost._

_It's now Brother vs. Brother and what is behind the silky curtain.  
_

* * *

_A/N - A fight between Raph and Mikey just breaks my heart. Raph and Emyrs have stolen the spotlight enough. Next chapters will focus on the other (neglected) characters. Yeah, my bad. - M_

* * *

"What are you doing in my room, Raph?"

His brother's voice was curious but dry.

"Was Rosie scratching on the door again?"

Raphael grabbed on the door handle. He looked back at the spot where the silver streak whistled moments ago and then to his brother, Michelangelo, again.

"Yeah, she was. I don't know where she went."

Mike immediately activated the overhead light and peeked under the sectional, calling for his pet.

"Mike," Raphael began, pushing his hands into his trousers and clearing his throat, "stand up and let me see you."

His blue eyes shot up at Raph's figure in the doorway. "Stand up?"

"I want to see you. On your feet."

"Okay, Master Splinter," Mike chuckled and peeked under the sectional, ignoring his brother's wishes. "He used to say that to us all of the time."

"Yeah, and I'm sayin' it to you now. Get on your feet. I'm not joking, Mike."

One last look up at his brother and noticing that Raphael was as serious as his tone of voice, Mike got to his feet and outstretched his arms in a cocky manner.

"Good enough, Master?" he laughed. "Now can I go back to looking for my cat?"

"You can tell me why you're not eating."

"I just ate," his hands fell back down. "And I feel fine. I might have lost a little bit recently, but.."

"A little bit? You look like a worm," Raph's voice intensified but never gained volume. "You need to work out and stay in shape. Hunching over that desk isn't good for you. And I'm not criticizing what you do, Bro; you've gone downhill in the last month. Everybody's noticed, even Casey and he's hardly here anymore."

Rosie jumped on the back of the sectional, swishing her energetic tail. Mike watched the cat groom her paws instead of responding to his brother.

Raphael closed the door behind him and exhaled. "I feel something weird in your room."

Mike still didn't answer, and Raphael took a good look over his brother's hygiene. The clothes were getting bigger, mismatched (more so than usual), disheveled, and there was a distinct odor coming from Mike's direction, too. It was difficult for Raphael not to show his temper, especially at Mike's lack of acknowledgment, but getting physical or violent wasn't the answer anymore. No more whacking the back of Mikey's head or cut-throat remarks towards popular culture or video games. This was as close to the edge the brothers had ever gotten, and Raphael was more afraid of his sibling losing everything that was dear to him than losing Mike entirely.

"You can stop staring a hole through me, please," sissed Mike.

It was Raphael's turn to remain silent but steadfast.

Mike slowly continued, "Did you hear about Emyrs and her touchdown? Has she gone to bed?"

Raphael nodded.

"Come here, Rosie," Mike gestured towards the cat and she leaped into his arms. "Irma is throwing around all kinds of threats. April and I had to calm her down. Didn't appreciate Em leaving like that-"

"I would've kicked that kid through the wall and made it bounce off the street," Raph crowed. "As long as it's okay, Irma shouldn't puff up like a chicken anymore."

Mike nuzzled into Rosie's fur and closed his eyes.

"I ain't worried about what other people are doing." Raphael sat down in his worn spot on the sofa and clapped his hands together. "That's been the problem for so long. My head's been too cloudy."

"April wants you to talk to Em and bring her to Irma's so they can all settle this problem." Mike tightly held onto Rosie.

"I'm not getting involved, especially when it's Robo-Irma and her Child that can do no Wrong. I'm getting out of dodge. Too much damn drama."

"And then you berate me when I want to be alone?" Mike snapped. "But you can do whatever you want?"

"I take care of myself. I may have a few bruises and scratches but I don't look like a starving deer!" There was his temper appearing.

"You know," triggered Mike as he placed Rosie back on the sectional, "I've been standing here wondering who you remind me of now. The way you talk, the way you move... and it clicked. You are almost Leonardo. "

Raphael playfully scoffed and released his hands. "No name-calling, Mikey."

"That's what I'm saying. You've changed. I've changed. I've become a person you don't like, but I'm fine with it."

"Oh, you're fine with being a hermit? Fine with smelling like a skunk and losing years of hard physical labor and dedication? It pisses me off that you're letting that go to waste!"

"I take that back," Mike pointed down at him, "You haven't changed. I almost thought you got better there for a second. Look at the beer cans on the table. Is that a whole pack or four?"

"This stupid stuff again," Raph mumbled and fell back on the sofa. "I don't have that problem anymore! But you goons sure are driving me back to it."

"Then do what I did! Change it!" His heart raced and his calm disposition dissolved. "I wanted out and I got out. I'm not coming back either."

"Yeah, you did," Raphael reaffirmed and hurled his gaze out the window. "And I was jealous. Hurt. And angry. Our kind walks on the streets now, but I would rather stay hidden with my family in the sewer. That's what we are. Just us. Nobody else."

Raphael's gaze didn't falter, and he soon felt a movement on the couch as Mike joined him. The brothers brooded in silence. The only sound was from Rosie's licks on her fur. In the city air, the snowdrift tarnished the approaching dead of night. For Mike, he could understand Raphael's troubled emotions over a family that was slowly deserting its nest. It was like they were all at a bus stop and each one waiting for a ride to another destination.

In the middle of his brainstorming, a familiar sensation percolated from his bedroom. Mike swallowed a lump in his throat and idly checked to see if his brother was noticing anything. Raphael had closed his eyes but the frown was tightening; it was a good indication that Raphael wasn't anybody's fool.

"I'm going to ask you again, Bro, before I crash through that door and face whatever is in there," Raph warned without opening his eyes and pointed to the bedroom, "what the fuck is going on? You tell me now."

Mike froze. He heard Rosie scamper away again.

"_Now_." The strain bled through Raphael's teeth.

The icy sensation hummed through the room, and Mike was praying hard that Mei would calm herself down. He could hear her voice, though muffled, and couldn't understand what she was saying to him but hoped she would listen to his pleas. It was a shredded interchange that saw many snowflakes twinkle on the ground.

When Mike felt like he couldn't control the situation anymore was when Mei's turbulence died down. It was a good thing, too, because Raphael was at the door, ready to tear right through it. The frazzled Mike stood on his feet and rubbed his sides, pushing off the forming sweat. Was his brother going to continue the investigation?

April's grandfather clock pealed from the opposite bedroom, resounding through the pressure and easing Mike's rabid ticker.

Raphael turned back to Mike. "It's obvious whose side you're on, Michelangelo, but it's going to have put up a big fight to keep me back."

He continued as he walked towards the window, lemon eyes blazing, "I'm outta here. I'll check in soon, and you better be alive and well."

A threat and a farewell, Mike expected, but this one left him feeling very lonely and sinking with guilt.

* * *

The sudden encumbrance thrashed her insides, from head to her toenails and every particle imaginable threatened to purge from her body. Her hands couldn't get a good grip on the old couch, and she fell to her knees and tried to keep from waking her peaceful daughter.

Whatever was happening upstairs was suffocating her and was just like at the Thanksgiving dinner but getting progressively worse. She inhaled the couch's musty smell, hoping it would make her succumb to the affliction.

When nothing else happened for a shaky five minutes, Emyrs faltered back to the bed. She had been on her way up the stairs to check on the commotion and promote peace but never made it to the door before the attacks began.

It was time to write a letter back to her friend, Splinter. The routine had been broken: letters were written and sent in a matter of two days, but now it was the fifth day and she couldn't bring a pen to the paper. There was too much confusion tapping her skull. If there was another onslaught, she needed to get a few words out to her confidant and the only one who would understand her predicament.

_Dear Kuma,_

_ Winter is lovely here. I have probably already stated that in my last three letters. It's day five and my breathing is erratic. I have felt this way before. In between lost moments, I am myself. I know myself. While I am mentally here, there is a disturbance upstairs. It's the same kind of feeling when we had Thanksgiving dinner at your place. _

_ If I can get to your home soon, will you help this old lady? I'm afraid I have seriously screwed up this time. I'm not one to ask for any help. I remember..._

She had to stop and stare blankly into the corner.

_...when I was filing Mother's paperwork and a toddler Abby reached up to the table to see what I was doing. She had been eating chocolate, or cake, or something and smeared it all over the paper. It was adorable and utterly frustrating at the same time since I had been working on the papers for two hours. Did your sons ever do that? I miss my child. I miss my mother. _

It was very uncontrollable. The paper became a little damp, and she almost stopped writing but something pressed her fingers forward to abruptly end it.

_I will remember you. Your family is all that I trust. I will see you again. Be well._


	34. Chapter 30 :: Humans

_Synopsis: When it gets too much for Raphael, he leaps into the darkness to find his answer._

_When it gets too much for Michelangelo, he leaps into his Dream._

_When it gets too much for Emrys, she leaps into Insanity._

_

* * *

_

"She's not coming back to me, man. I -" the lump ballooned in his throat and he couldn't swallow it, "-I don't know what to do! God. Somebody. Bring her back."

He whimpered to the Nothing, "Bring her back to me?"

His eyes leaked but he already cried enough so they stung like little bees and their stingers. The snow was rough now, and Casey Jones didn't know exactly who he was talking to on the street. Just somebody who would listen to him. His job was in the middle of its busiest season; the hours were long and tedious, but it did keep his mind preoccupied and his sore fingers busy.

The apartment used to be the hustle and bustle of his life with April scampering around the place, his child babbling and clinking her toys, and the Green Brothers bumming sofas and beer. No one was ever around now. No television screaming, no lights flickering, no conversations, and there were no good smells of home-cooked meals in the kitchen anymore. The basement guests barely made a peep, and Mike might as well have an obituary running in the paper. Rosie the cat had become Casey's only gentle companion.

Primitively, he was angry at the world; then it crawled to a sinking hole where life seemed like it was going to remain as it was, with no plans of ever turning back. Between work, eating, and sleeping, Casey put on his best demeanor and visited his daughter every two days. He didn't want to cry when he saw her; he picked her up and squeezed her until she couldn't breathe and placed his head on hers while she giggled and babbled. Shadow still hadn't prattled those important words to him, but he would wait forever for her to say anything.

April was only ever around the first time he visited them after the initial breakup, and for the other visits, she was always gone. Irma insisted that it wasn't because April didn't want to see him but that her job was keeping her busy, too. Casey wanted to give his partner the time she needed, but he was afraid that the more time passed, the more she would get complacent and decide to never come back

"Never come back", he would say to himself. The three words that struck fear into his core and initially kept him awake until dawn. Unfortunately, it was getting a little easier to sleep at night, even when those words blared forth from his mouth.

"April O'Neil, don't you forget me. Don't you forget me!"

The world was silent. The world at Christmas forgot about Casey Jones and his problems.

His boots crushed into the powder, and it was the end of another forgettable day. He was ready to walk up the steps to his home until a jingle sang from the bushes. Casey leaned over the railing and peered into the sparkling duskiness.

"Who's there? Come out! I hear you!"

Scampering, scuttle, scuttle. Crack.

Bewildered, Casey lunged over the railing and grabbed whatever was fluttering on the ground. He could smell the dampness and feel the grease and dirt from the punk's clothes. The two wrestled, grunted, cursed, and tossed until they were in the street, and Casey victoriously mounted on the top and pinned the hoodlum on the bitter asphalt. Casey could see more clearly now, and through the blood and caked dirt on the victim's face, he loosened the grip once realization buzzed through his mind.

"Hey, aren't you Zach? That stupid kid that used to hang around the Turtles like a lost puppy?"

"Get the fuck off me, man!" the hoodlum croaked, wiggling under the pressure.

Casey tightened again. "Are you Zach? Answer me!"

"Yeah! Yeah! Get OFF!"

Zach coughed a lung as Casey peeled himself off the boy and then almost slipped on the icy street. Casey was at a loss for words so he tucked out his hand and offered to help the boy up.

"Sorry, man. I'm just out of it lately. I thought you were another robber or something."

Zach regained his composure and shakily got to his feet. He waved Casey off and headed back to the sidewalk. "I'm cool. I'm cool."

Casey followed. "What are you doing below the apartment like that? Do you have a home to go to, man?"

The kid swallowed hard and held onto the railing. "I just wanted out of my parents' house. They're always suffocating me and shit."

"Boy, watch your language!" howled Casey, shaking his finger at the staggering teen. "Get your tush home where it's warm and stop acting like a hobo."

Zach wiped his mouth and grumbled, "I'm seventeen and I go where I want, Mr. Jones."

"Seventeen!" Casey shook his head. "A scrawny thing like you ain't gonna make it on the street. Now if you won't go home, you're coming inside with me. Get out of this cold."

"Are the Turtles in there?"

Zach's back was facing Casey, but the strength of the kid's voice gave everything away.

"No. Well," Casey began and pointed to the apartment quickly, "just Mikey, but he doesn't talk to us anymore. As far as I know, I'm not expecting them."

"Ok," Zach obliged and trekked up the stairs. "I'd rather not see them if I can. I'll leave at first sight of them."

While watching Zach carefully approach the door, Casey swiftly recalled a little of what happened between the honorary "Fifth Turtle" and the foursome: something about Zach's new stepfather who was aggressively against the non-humans' naturalization campaign and who had ties to the Purple Dragons and other criminal organizations. Teenagers never understand the sacrifices adults make, and the Turtles made the ultimate one in order to save the young boy's life. Zach was too young and high-spirited to grasp the broken bond and why it was broken in the first place. Casey called him stupid and annoying, but the kid had heart and a lot of guts. In the end, it took those hardened guts for both parties to separate until times were better.

Casey breathed in a huge amount of city air and closed the door behind him. He solemnly knew that there wasn't any "getting better" for this kid and not at least for a very long time.

Zach waited on Casey to open the apartment door. The kid appeared extremely nervous.

"Make yourself at home. I don't know about any food, though," muttered Casey as he threw his coat on the sectional. "Haven't been to the store this week."

"I just need your bathroom for a few minutes to wash up, man," Zach asked, scratching his unkempt strands of blonde hair. "Then I'll get some sleep."

His head already in the fridge on a manhunt, Casey stuffed his mouth full of hotdogs and spluttered, "Oh! I do have a couple of guests downstairs. Don't disturb 'im."

"I think I got that. Don't go downstairs then," a puzzled Zach said when he shut the bathroom door. Casey heard the sink instantly swish on and didn't give another thought to the boy as he finished wolfing down food and then locked the bedroom door.

April's smell was fading from the bed. He rubbed her pillow hoping to dwindle away the affection he wanted from her on this raw, strange night. He wanted to hear his daughter's cries waking him up again. He wanted to hear his lady crawling into bed and shoving her cold feet against his legs. He wanted to wake her up in the middle of the night and kiss her arms and it lead to the warmth between her thighs. Everything they had together was perfect.

Unlike Zach's predicament, Casey Jones was going to see better times, and every time was going to be with the woman he loved.

* * *

The teen remembered hitting his head on the couch and promptly falling asleep. Time had no restraints.

He also remembered waking up and hearing something going on in one of the bedrooms. Zach, being the brown nose he was, wanted to investigate closer. He put his ear on the bedroom door and could hear voices. It took a moment for him to make out the whispers, but he knew one of them was Mikey's voice.

"Don't get angry with me, Mei. I was trying to warn you about Raphael."

Zach repositioned quietly and could now hear the second, more feminine voice.

"I am not afraid to face him, Michelangelo," the defiant Mei countered. "Do you see females as weak?"

"No, no," Mike sighed, "If there's no need to start a fight, avoid it. Splinter always taught us that."

Zach sadly nodded in agreement and continued eavesdropping.

Inside the dreary room, Mike was sitting at his desk, visibly distressed and not looking at his guest on the bed. She sat with her forest-skinned legs crossed and wearing a traditional black Chinese dress with a silver flower embroidery on the brocade. At least now he knew she originally hailed from China, or certainly somewhere around that region.

Her legs normally caught his attention, but tonight Mike was more worried about the tense relationship with his brother. His eyes drifted around the room, and his body ached for sleep.

"I will not face him as long as he stays away from me and my associates," Mei continued and petted Rosie who was also on the bed. "Deal?"

"Deal," Mike mumbled. His head drooped onto the desk.

She slithered by his side and rubbed his head softly. "I will protect the person who answered my cries for help. You are a good person, Michelangelo. I will not let you down."

The purring Rosie joined Mike and Mei at his desk and rubbed on Mike as he snoozed away. Mei smiled down at Rosie and gave the kitty another stroke.

Outside the room, Zach released his ear from the door and stepped back. It surprised him when the door squeaked open and he could see into the room. Mike was asleep at his desk and an orange cat meowed beside the sleeping turtle. Zach wondered how the door opened on its own.

In another heartbeat, the basement door squealed open, and Zach was leaning on the couch to see who was coming out of it.

The door shut. No one walked out of it.

"Ghosts!" Zach frightfully whispered. "Casey has ghosts in here!"

* * *

Abigail Becker folded her night clothes and tucked them into her carry bag. She had to brace herself for another strenuous day with her temperamental mother. Everyday was getting worse, rolling through a domino effect, and as much as she didn't want to leave America and her new friends, she wanted her mother to be back home and safe. The tween was making calls back and forth to Flodina, Mother's best friend and their house sitter, but Flodina was a scared rabbit lady and wouldn't talk to Mother during times like this; Flodina said it was too hard to see and hear Mother sick. Abigail didn't blame her godmother for feeling that way. It really was such an incredibly sad situation.

Young Abigail was going to find out today if her mother was getting the medication she needed. The signs of the elder's illness was rearing its ugly head once more. The twisted ghost of Mother's past was humming in Abigail's ears again and brought back dreadful memories of many lonely nights without her parent to tuck her into bed. No breakfast. No jokes or screeching laughter after school. No bizarre bad movie night. No camping. No hugs and no kisses. The eleven year old child looked into the dead eyes of her caregiver for weeks. It felt like long ago but they had only seen a year dissolve with the memories.

"I can't find my cigarettes," Emyrs mumbled, tossing her clothes wildly around the room.

"You don't smoke," advised Abigail. "You quit smoking two years ago."

"I had them yesterday!"

"You don't smoke anymore, Mother."

More clothes flashed through the air and intolerable German curses soon followed. Emyrs never cursed in front of her daughter and didn't allow anyone else to do the same. At least, not those kinds of words currently spewing from her mouth.

Two pieces of underwear slung Abigail's way and she caught them in mid-air. "Look all day. You won't find them because you don't smoke. Do you want me to cook some breakfast?"

"I want you to find my cigarettes!" There was actually saliva coming out of her mother's lips.

Nothing was going to work. Let her trash the place looking for those things, Abigail decided, and she left the basement. She could hear more curses and items crashing as the door closed.

"I don't need this today. I don't need this ever," the tween sighed and leaned against the wall. "Maybe I should get someone to buy the cigarettes and plant it in her bag."

The idea tossed around in her head while she prepared a small meal. She hummed a quaint tune to keep her spirits high and didn't hear Zach behind her.

"Um.. hello," his scratchy voice creaked, and Abigail slowly turned around, holding the spatula near her face. She responded with a wide-eyed stare.

"Hello."

The awkwardness was filling the room; he had to say something to calm down her impressive stare.

"I'm Zach. An old friend of the Turtles."

Her spatula was lowered. Relief swept over his tense body.

"I didn't mean to scare you," his teeth chattered. "Whatever you're cooking smells good."

Abigail nodded and turned back to the stove. "It's nice to meet you, Zach, and thank you."

"Your accent? Uh," he reached in the far back of his brain and strummed out, "Russia?"

She smiled. "Close enough. Go back to the west some."

Zach observed the rather healthy cook and forgot to continue the guessing game. She turned back in time to meet his eyes on the way up, and Abigail became very uncomfortable. It was a welcoming coincidence that her breakfast was almost ready.

"I'm in a hurry to feed my sick mother," she babbled and set out an empty bowl, cereal box, and milk for the guest. "I apologize. Nice to meet you."

She wasn't good at dealing with the opposite sex around her age. Boys made her nervous. Girls made her even more nervous. Her mind, body, and moods were slowly changing everyday, and she just didn't have the time right now to even consider flirting. It was too exhausting to keep up with the pace.

* * *

Zach made use of the cute cook's hospitality and helped himself to a little breakfast. He couldn't remember the last time he ate anything; his appetite was just never there. Marshmallows and cold milk warmed his insides and reminded him of watching Saturday morning cartoons. The memory prompted his fingers to touch the remote and curiously channel surf. He was slurping on the cereal so fast that he almost dropped the bowl and the remote unfortunately smashed onto the carpet. After performing a balancing act, Zach retrieved the remote and set it on the table. Through his persistent sloshes, he briefly overheard the television's broadcast.

"Protesters are currently grouping in growing numbers at the scene of a brutal crime on East 128th Street that took place early this morning."

Zach wiped his chin with his tattered coat sleeve. "Sound a little more sympathetic about the situation, Jane, would ya? They need to replace you with a robot or a head of cabbage."

On the television Jane the Anchorwoman continued, "As you can see from the live footage, the group consists of humans and non-humans with some very emotional outbursts from several citizens. The police have closed off the crime scene and are trying to control the increasing crowd."

The lively teen set his empty bowl on the table and peered closer into the television set. He had been on that street just yesterday and knew a few of the homeless people there. They had been nice to him, giving food and safety without question. It was a tight-knit group of humans and non, but there had been whispers of gang wars and vigilante groups on the rise for months.

Zach's heart dropped as Jane informed that a young non-human had been a victim of a homicide. The only other young one in the group besides Zach had been Barry Timmett, a quiet Cheetah with big dreams of going back to the West. The camera showed blood stains on the street, and the news reporter mentioned the police finding pieces of a nylon rope. That's all Zach needed to know before he shut off the television.

He regrettably knew this was ten years ago all over again. Was his stupid, hateful stepfather getting ready to defend such horrible current events? Zach had to be on his best and strongest guard.

But a rustle of fur on his leg made him jump and squeal like a panicked swine. He was shaking a little, peered down at the floor, and he knew he wasn't going to be a superhero anytime soon.

It was a tiny orange kitty that scared the willies out of him. Zach blurted out a small snicker at his stupidity.

"Hi, Klunk! You got smaller," Zach breathed and picked up the misnamed cat. Petting the purring feline calmed his senses and colored a better view of life, compared to the crime that happened on his footprints.

Rosie closed her eyes and motored her laryngeal muscles as the silly human rubbed under her chin. She had been locked out of her master's room and found comfort under the sectional. Through the breaking dawn, she attempted licking Zach's fingers to wake him up, but the lump never moved. Other attempts included jumping on Zach's back, rubbing the back of his head, stroking his bun with her claws, and sleeping between his legs. Nothing, nothing.

He studied the kitty. "I don't think you're Klunk. He was pretty chubby. And," he peered near Rosie's bottom, "you're a girl. So you're She-Klunk."

Zach snickered and resumed stroking her chin. It was an adorable moment until he heard muted shouting and thundering from the basement. He didn't turn around in time to see the basement door fly open, quickened footsteps, and the front door opened and then slammed shut.

"Abigail!" a voice wailed from the basement. "Get back here!"

Zach tucked Rosie under his coat and tensed up, not knowing what was going to happen next. Angry footsteps sounded from the basement, getting closer.

"Who the hell are you?" the steamy, German-accented voice demanded. Zach swallowed and faced his predator.

"Zach," he cheeped and hugged Rosie tightly. She wiggled in his grasp.

A short, stout non-human stood at the entrance with fiery hazel eyes and hands on her hips. He immediately recognized the structure of her face being that of a turtle. Was she kin to the Hamatos? No, her skin tone was very light. She looked older and pretty severe. Possibly Raphael's blood somewhere down the line?

"I bet you stole my cigarettes, didn't you?"

He blinked.

"You look like a weasel. Go buy me some cigarettes!"

A couple of more blinks transpired.

She lowered her exploding eyes to the couch. "Are you deaf, Heini?"

The flabbergasted teen held on to his Clueless demeanor and almost suffocated Rosie in his jacket. Emyrs marched over to Zach, and her shadow swallowed him. He was terrified of this lady.

She leaned over him, her face dripping intimidation, "I remember you from the photos. Some little woodpecker in a bandanna and turtle shell. Who was your favorite turtle?"

Rosie mewed from the coat, and he spat out an heroic answer, "All of them. I couldn't choose, Miss."

Emyrs grabbed his sleeve and scoffed. "Weasel."

Zach loosened his death grip on Rosie and watched the elder lady slowly walk to the bathroom. She had a slight limp to her walk.

"I did all of my research before coming to America," her voice not missing a beat, "I even told Abigail stories of those boys to give her hope. Some were false, many were true."

Zach wondered if she was making a point to him; Rosie nipped at his chest.

"When the shit hits the fan, Weasel, where you will be? Shaking in the corner with a cat in your pocket?"

Zach looked away in defeat. There was her point. Just like his own mother.

She didn't make another peep and closed the bathroom door. He wasn't sure what to make of anything and why the mother didn't go after her daughter who just ran out of the apartment. Maybe he should be a man and go look for her in the cold, dark world.

And to get this cat to stop gnawing on his nipples, Zach fussed. It was very unnerving, but what was more unnerving was the creepy feeling returning: that same feeling from earlier in the night when he overheard commotion in Mikey's bedroom. Once he saw a streak of silver dashing across the room, Zach the Former Fifth Turtle, hoarding a testy Rosie, got the hell out of dodge.


	35. Chapter 31 :: War

_Synopsis: Casey Jones is having a miserable holiday season with April and baby Shadow no longer living with him. A strange turn of events lands Zach, the former "fifth turtle", in Casey's apartment, and a 17 year old Zach encounters a poltergeist twice, meets a flustered Abigail who eventually runs away, meets Emyrs who berates him, and runs frightened out of the house with a testy Rosie._

_Barry Timmett's Nightmare is the little match that starts a big fire.  
_

* * *

_A/N -I had to stop at a couple of points while writing this chapter. One of the times was to ask my Donatello-like husband what was the best way to kill a tree and not make an apartment explode. He's quirky like that. Enjoy! - M_

* * *

Why was the upstairs rooster still crowing? Mister Dover really needed to tape its beak shut.

Lisa couldn't sleep and could barely function the coffee pot. Reading the paper was out of the question so the radio made a decent substitute. It also drowned out that annoying rooster.

"The coffee smells funny. You should toss it," Umeko's dry voice mumbled while the brew bubbled. "And comb your hair."

Lisa touched her normally fine locks of mane, but this morning it was singing a sad tune. Something was off in the universe and all odds were against the lizard lady for the day. Umeko's persistent clattering and scooting around the kitchen made it difficult to hear the news broadcast.

"What is the radio saying?" Lisa chattered through a piece of toast.

"A boy was killed."

For a few moments, only Lisa's crunching could be heard as commercials aired. She waited for Umeko to keep going with the news, but Umeko only looked up from the pot and shrugged.

"Is that all? A boy was killed? That happens every second in this city." An irritable Lisa threw down her toast and impatiently tapped her fingers on the table. That cackling rooster was scratching to the very core of her rattled nerves.

"I can silence the fowl," Umeko commanded and left her seat. "Just give the word, Alissa."

"I want a real breakfast."

"Rooster makes good breakfast."

The commercials ended and it was back to the broadcast. Lisa held up her finger to subdue her hot-headed friend. As the announcer's words rolled on, Lisa's eyes froze and she soaked in the troubling events.

Umeko stood defiantly. "Timmett's death is a warning to us. There will be more before it all ends."

Losing her small appetite, Lisa stared at her partner and didn't want to make sense of anything happening. Her mind floated through the haze, and a shudder crawled down her spine.

"I will protect you, friend. Do not worry," the husky voice softly hummed. Lisa almost fell out of her chair.

"You buy me shoes, bread, and shelter me, and you never ask for anything in return," Umeko continued, "I will follow you wherever you go."

Now Umeko was bowing down in front of Lisa, who appeared even more frazzled and frozen. The morning was getting weirder by the minute. When the entertainer couldn't muster a meep, Umeko rose to her feet and hoisted on the window.

"Today echoes in our blood. Will you be ready?"

WildKat was off with the wind, but her words rang very true. No wonder Lisa didn't get any sleep or could function. A strong, bleeding cloud hung over her head in the room's abyss. Nobody knew what was going to happen by sundown, and the Untouchable Lady had no choice but to get ready for the stage.

* * *

Only children's illusory voices played in her head while she watched the near-empty playground. It was odd not seeing any small arms or legs swinging from the equipment, but it was cold and it was still early morning. Twelve year olds like Abigail were allowed to play in the section, and she dusted off and rested her body on a stiff tire swing.

Sharp breaths fluted around the trees and weaved a haunted atmosphere. The park became a ghost of itself and fell into the winter morning's grasp. Branches cracked and struggled under the weight of an aggressive snow that wouldn't melt. The division of time sneered at the tween and wrapped its frosty arms around her in the middle of a child's haven.

Abigail couldn't and didn't want to leave her mother for homeward bound. Mother controlled the finances but was losing balance and stability, once again. The younger Becker worked her brain muscles to devise a plan of getting help to pay for plane tickets and fly home. It was sad that a child couldn't trust its parent anymore, and time was quickly slipping away. The only person Abigail could rely on was herself and an adult that could lend a hand.

A presence grabbed her milky attention. No snow or stick snapped under his weight, and when she peered from under her hat, his kind grey eyes were looking down at her. Wind sprinkled flurries into her pupils, and she nodded to her Sensei before shifting her gaze away from the sky.

He joined on the opposite side of the tire swing, still never making a peep.

"Miss Abigail," his equally kind voice began, "you won't like to hear this, but children should not be alone. Where is your mother?"

One of her hands dropped to her lap and she leaned into the rope. "I needed to get away, Sensei. Please don't judge me."

Leonardo continued looking into the distance, on his side. "Is she not well?"

"It's gotten much worse." The child took a deep breath, exhaled, and watched it disappear into the air. "I'm being strong, like you taught me, but I'm breaking down."

"I have days of losing control too," he revealed, his pitch changing mid-sentence. "I'm an adult and it's already difficult seeing my father slip away from us."

"Is Splinter sick?" She could feel her hands trembling from the cold.

Recalling episodes in the last year, Leonardo responded, "We think so. He spends a lot of time meditating and regulating his mental status."

Abigail swallowed in her surroundings. "I don't like to think of life without my mother. Is it the same for you?"

"Life is a heartbeat, it breathes, it lives. I take comfort in knowing that we are all the same in the end."

She wasn't sure if she should ponder on those words as his answer to her question, but there wasn't any time to get picky. Sometimes talking with her teacher was like running in a maze and hitting every dead end possible. But today, and in her current mood, what he said was finally making more sense than it ever had.

The air froze and struck the playground with a menacing force. Leonardo never flinched, and her hands trembled slightly. They were lost in separate stars for distant moments.

She felt the swing budge, and her teacher communicated, "It is very dangerous out here. Promise me that while you're still visiting, you won't ever be alone like this."

Abigail promptly nodded and vocally acknowledged him. She used her foot to gently push the tire although it moved more on her side than the heavier Leonardo's. He joined in the motion, making the tire screech under the weight.

"You're breaking the rules, Teach." She suddenly felt as comfortable as ever with her superior.

He smiled. "How am I breaking the rules?"

"Only six through twelve year olds are allowed on the equipment."

"I wanted to come here when I was twelve. Does that count?" He heard a giggle from her side.

"No!" She continued giggling and started sniffling from the cold snap.

Leonardo humored the girl more. "Do you know what my brothers and I did as soon as our people were allowed in society?"

"Go to the pizza shop? You guys love that stuff."

"We did after wards," he teased. "No. We came here."

"To Central Park?"

"To this playground."

She warmly grinned and wondered, "And how old were you?"

He chuckled and almost couldn't cough out the answer, "Nineteen."

Abigail always held a tight composure around him, and instead of screeching out laughter like she would with her mother, she laughed quietly and buried her head against the rope swing. Nineteen year old mutant-turtle boys sat on the very same swing and played on the monkey bars like a bunch of children. Her stomach was hurting from cracking up so hard. But still, it was an endearing event to imagine and after she wiped her eyes, the Winter's hold lessened on her body and her world felt warm again.

"Father wasn't too pleased that we brought home a fine for him to pay because we didn't read the rules," he grinned. "We didn't care at the time because this was a place we really wanted to visit and play with other children, when we were children, that is. We had good childhood times in the sewer, playing pirates and fighting zombies. We had to be careful because the sewer isn't a playground, and there were times we found ourselves in trouble."

As the tire swing groaned, Abigail relished in a tender moment shared between a student and her normally-stuffy teacher. It relaxed her restless thoughts.

Leonardo walked on his fond memories. "As much as I enjoy going to the grocery store or gaining employment, my best times were with my brothers in anything we did together. I've tried for so long to keep us glued, but in the last year, it's taken all of my strength to come to terms with my family leaving the nest for other adventures."

Her teacher stopped so suddenly, as if he wanted to keep going but maybe thought he was revealing too much about himself or thought a twelve year old didn't care to hear more ramblings.

She surprised him. "If you had a choice, Sensei, would you keep your family together or set them free?"

His end of the tire swing almost bounced off her back when Leonardo stood on his feet. The action jarred her a bit, thinking if she said something wrong since he didn't respond immediately. Maybe the Butt-Munch side was coming back to teach the nosy student a lesson, she anxiously waited.

"Ask me that question in another year, and I might have the correct answer. Right now," he softly said and peered down at her back, "I'm too selfish."

If there were words she would use to describe Leonardo, selfish wasn't in her top ten; the things you learn everyday about the people you admire, Abigail reflected and mounted on the snowy ground. She walked around the swing and kept her head down low, mostly to counter the brisk wind whipping her cheeks.

Leonardo curiously tiled his head and waited for her to meet his gaze. There was something different about the young girl. "Look up at me."

She was hoping he wouldn't notice but fat chance now. Abigail obeyed her warden but her gaze dashed in another direction once those old Grey Eyes roasted a hole through her head.

Instead of probing further and feeling that something was amiss with his student, he was passive once more. "Come with me to the Lair."

She followed him through the Park like a puppy, stepping around his footprints in the snow.

* * *

He could see Donald Duck, Bugs Bunny, and a one-eyed ghost imprinted on the ceiling and never noticed it before, despite looking at the same gloomy ceiling for three years. If Casey turned his head one-eighth of a degree, he could spot a banana boat. One time, April commented that she saw a cross between a bat and an armadillo, but that was during one of their tipsy, intimate marathons. Those were fun, he reminisced while scratching his groin area, and then he shuddered from the chilly air. The bed needed more blankets; that was easier than turning up the thermostat (and cheaper, too).

As his eyes drooped and reality was humming low, the phone's ring shattered through the room, and the groggy man leaped out of his half-slumber. The first attempt to reach the chirping phone failed, and it slammed on the floor. Casey scrambled to pick up the cord receiver and held it upside down as he mumbled, "Yeah?"

"Casey? Hello?"

The sound of her pretty voice opened up a door to a magic kingdom. It took no time at all for him to shoot awake.

"April? Hi!"

She hesitated. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm okay. I mean, I've been busy. With work." He sat up and leaned his free elbow on the bed. Butterflies danced in his stomach. "You? You sound good."

Shadow could be heard babbling in the background, rattling one of her toys. "Irma said you've been visiting on and off. That's good. Shadow always wants to see you."

For a moment, they both listened to their daughter jabber and then cram something in her mouth, Casey could tell. April whispered sharply, took away whatever the object was, and Shadow wasn't too happy about it.

"Somebody needs a mid-morning nap, huh?" He wrapped the device's cord around his finger and smiled.

"She didn't sleep at all last night," April was exasperated and hushed the toddler again. "Maybe she'll just wear herself out in a minute."

"It's good to hear from the both of you, April. Even if the little lady is cranky."

Casey wasn't sure if his fiancee heard him since the noise appeared to fade in and out on her line, and when the line cleared, April and Shadow were squawking at each other. He didn't mind. They could yell at each other all day on the phone, and Casey would just lose himself in it.

"Casey, let me -" she cut off, and he heard a wet pop on that end which led to Shadow blubbering. "I'm sorry, Casey. She's a cranky monster today."

"Is it a sign of times to come?" chuckled Casey, and his head fell back onto the pillow. He stared at the ceiling and could spot a baby and her toy on it.

When Shadow's whimpers died down, April scampered back on the line. "I've had some time to think about everything, Casey, and I'm ready to talk when we can. Not now, obviously, but whenever you're ready, too."

This was exactly what he had been waiting for and although he wanted to jump on his clothes and go straight to Irma's, the nervous Casey didn't want to seem too eager or desperate. Women were so very hard to understand and what they desired in a mate. Too little confidence, too much confidence; too much attention, not enough, and give me space and why haven't you come to see me, yadda yadda yadda. He remembered Don saying it was like a black widow dance, and that nerdy turtle hit it right on the head.

Getting ready for his dance of death, Casey blurted to the best of his ability, "I'm off today and tomorrow, as long as they don't call me in, that is. Can we get together then? Maybe a-"

Numbers on another phone's keypad sang in his ears, and April was asking Casey to repeat what he just said. He almost hit the headboard in frustration; that was a moment he didn't think he could do perfectly again.

"Who is on the phone?" he hollered, covering the receiver.

"Hallo?" chanted a delightful German accent from another phone in Casey's apartment; he wildly hopped back on the device.

"I'm using the phone right now, Emyrs," Casey gritted through his teeth. "I'll let you know when I'm off!"

"Casey, do you have a Christmas tree?"

"There should be one in Mike's room," commented April, who sounded just as confused as Casey. "All the ornaments should be in a banana box."

"April! How are you?"

"Emyrs, hello. I'm good. And you? How is your leg?"

"It's healing. That little dinosaur tyke okay?"

April giggled. "Yeah, he's on a roll, like always."

Casey couldn't believe the ladies were having a conversation during his defining moment of manhood. And worst of all, he didn't want to lose his temper. He put down the receiver and took many deep breaths.

Emyrs and April were chatting in German when Casey returned to the line. He found many more cartoon characters, objects, and lined out curse words in the ceiling's design. By the time they were finished, April did sound surprisingly better.

"Oh, Casey, are you going to the store?" That old turtle lady just wouldn't shut up. There had to be something in a turtle's bloodline to be this annoying.

"Not really. You need something?" This cheerful act was dissolving his butterflies and sugary good feeling.

"Cigarettes, please." And she hung up.

"I didn't know she smoked," April chimed.

"Never seen her smoke since she's been here," Casey was dumbfounded but it quickly dissolved. "Uhm, I was saying that I'm off work today and tomorrow. You want to meet up?"

"Sure, how about -"

The entire apartment shook with a crash so loud, Casey almost lost control of his bodily functions. There was even an aftershock.

"Casey, what was that?" April squealed from the phone.

He sharply whispered, "Hang on. Don't you go anywhere, babe!"

From April's end of the line, there was a thud and echo as the phone bounced off the bed and onto the floor. She stared at a drooling Shadow as there were screams and laughter from Casey's apartment. She couldn't make out anything that was being said. Josh was scooting his way towards the snoozing Shadow and tried nibbling on her ear. April batted him on the head.

"April, uh -" Casey rushed back, out of breath and fearing for his life, "you said you didn't like that box of crystals your grandmother left you?"

"The dead grandmother who practically raised me?" Her voice fell flat.

"Yeah, uh – no! Your aunt. The one who smelled like a dead fish?"

Josh was now sprawled over Shadow, who was getting fussy from the weight. "Casey, please! I don't want to know. Just clean it up and -"

Another crash.

April pushed the phone between her head and shoulders and placed Josh in another spot. "I'll come there tonight around five." She blew out a sigh.

"I got the tree!" Emyrs called from another room.

Part one of the dance of death concluded, Casey furiously scratched his head. "I'll be here, April. Alone. Somehow."

His fiancee didn't sound incredibly peeved when she said goodbye and disconnected. Casey became nervous and happy at the same time. He had to prove to her that their relationship was worth saving, and just like it was as important as raising Shadow.

For now, he had to deal with a rowdy house guest who probably woke up Mike, the other tenants, the tenants in the next door building, everyone down the street, and the cemetery. The grumpy Mister Jones truly forgot that he just ran through his apartment in nothing but a long john, too. A person could see everything he owned "downstairs".

"These are pretty lights! Hey, Mike, good morning! Come help me!" Emyrs passed by Casey's room. He had never heard her talk beyond a normal tone, but she had a killer outdoor voice.

His bedroom door was promptly sealed and he donned some sweatpants and shirt in true Casey fashion.

* * *

"You've been asleep for a hundred years! Get up!"

Mike rubbed his full head and slithered out of his chair. His back was as stiff as three-day old cooked pasta, and having been shaken awake by a glass explosion aggravated a gnawing migraine. He didn't want to "get up" like Emyrs barked; Mike had thought his days of answering to such cattle calls were over when he moved into April's place.

He didn't even have time to go to the bathroom before something fuzzy was wrapped around his neck.

A peach-skinned blur shot passed his door. "Shadow is coming today, you big lump. I love this American style of decking halls and being flashy."

"Uh, Ms. Emyrs," Mike was trying to be polite and not strangle her with the tinsel, "you have the lights tangled around your feet. Can I go use the bathroom before we do all of this mess?"

"I'm in here!" Casey's voice bloated from the toilet, followed by painful moans.

Exhaling growing stress, Mike unwrapped himself from the prickly decoration and placed it on the lopsided tree. He took a good look at the tree and chuckled to himself.

"What? It's a little difficult to work with!" Emyrs blurted and almost tripped over the lights that were gathering around her feet. "Let's put on Christmas music!"

She was a whirlwind and a half, jumping from the tree to the music player and knocking over everything in the process. In the three months she had been staying with them, Mike had never seen such energy spewing from her body.

"Are you on crack?" His eyebrow cocked in her direction.

Children's voices bellowing _'Jingle Bells_' gushed from the speakers, and when the volume increased to where Mike's eardrums bled and Casey howled from the can, Emyrs waved them off and continued decorating the tree.

Mike felt thunderous stomps across the living room floor and the music was suddenly snapped down. Casey gave the turtle lady a frightened look. "Turn that stuff down! The old bat upstairs has already told the landlord on us twice!"

Emyrs held up a bottle of glitter and patched a tiny amount on Casey's nose. "What's your favorite holiday song?"

The bedazzled Toilet Caper took Mike aside and whispered in hiding, "Is she okay? Did she just put glitter on my nose?"

"Just say no to drugs!" the turtle man grinned and shook some orange ornaments. "Like you guys always said about me!"

_'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' _promptly stuffed the room at a lower volume, and Emyrs hummed her way around the tree. Mike shrugged at Casey and rejoined the festivity.

"I have some hot toast on the counter, Mr. Jones. Help yourself." She stood on her tiptoes to put an ornament higher on the tree, but Mike helped her when the tree seemed like it was about to strangle her.

Hanging his orange accessories on the display, Mike commented, "I was laughing earlier because I thought of last Christmas."

"What happened?"

"Well," Mike glanced at Casey, whose head was stuck in the fridge, and Mike leaned in closer to Emyrs, whispering, "Casey got a real tree last year but didn't know that April has a small allergy to them. The poor guy was real proud of the find and wanted to have the 'perfect' Christmas like in the movies, he said. Well, April had to kill the tree."

She wore a sympathetic look for Casey. "What did she do to the tree then?"

Casey was now eyeing the pair oddly so Mike pointed to the box of ornaments hinting at Emyrs to hand him something. "The blue one, sweetie." Once Casey turned away again, Mike continued his story.

"I think April put bleach in the water and the tree was dead in a day. Casey was trying so hard to bring it back to life. I think he gave it mouth to mouth." By then, the two turtles were giggling and couldn't stop. They separated once Casey poked his head between them.

"What's a matter, boys and girls? I know you're laughing about me!"

Emyrs moved away further, waving her hands, "Did you put garlic on your toast? Jeez!"

The next moment Casey was blowing his hot air in the little space, like a little kid aggravating a situation. Emyrs dove out of dodge, and Mike wondered if the artificial tree was going to croak, too. That was when Casey babbled about last year's tree and if somebody had sabotaged it. The guy seemed to still be sore over it.

The two guys carried on decorating the tree and even allowed a few more renditions of Rudolph, Frosty, a White Christmas, and Decking the Halls.

"Man, what's up with that turtle chick? She's dressed like she's going to war," fussed Casey, flattening out the knots in the lights.

Mike shrugged. "She has said that she's a little hot-blooded."

"But a muscle shirt and cargo pants in December? I'm expecting her to grab a gun, dude." Casey groaned as he squeezed behind the tree. "And she just toted a bunch of clothes out to the rooftop."

Not interested in the conversation, Mike asked, "Hey, have you seen Rosie?"

"No," mustered a groan from the back, "She might be under my bed. Think I saw her go under there this morning."

"I'll call her when we finish here, then."

Mike flinched when he heard a buzz behind the tree, in Casey's general direction. Mike's technically-inclined friend didn't seem to think anything was wrong as he emerged again.

"I can't wait until Shadow can help me put up a tree. I'm going to take her in the forest and I'm going to cut down the first one she wants!" Casey announced, proudly looking at a baby-shaped ornament.

Mike smiled at the thought. "I can't wait either, Case. We'll all have many more Christmases to share with each other."

"I hope so, Mikey," Casey's eyes flickered. "Because we're all scattering and looking for other pastures to feed and do our business on."

Only Casey would use compare us all to cows, Mike chuckled, and the thought of his green brothers in cow suits was enough for Mike to step back from the tree, cover his mouth, and have a giggle-fit. Casey gave a toothy grin and threw a turquoise tinsel in Mike's direction.

"I hate that glittery shit," Casey mumbled and bent down to look through more boxes.

The tinsel glided to the floor and mesmerized Mike's awareness. The turquoise color alerted him to the memory of a significant presence and his mind disappeared in the fog again.

"Mikey? Hey. Mike?" Casey noticed and snapped his fingers. Mike's blue eyes were so still and he never flinched, even when Casey started furiously shaking him. The panicked man rushed to the window and screamed at Emyrs for help.

On the rooftop, the elder Becker mumbled a prayer in her native tongue, asking to be flushed of her sins and to watch over her loved ones. She lunged her bundle of clothes over the building's edge.

Casey saw the wind and sky rain clothes. His body hastened inside the apartment and gently sat Mike's static body on the sectional and then back out the window to investigate the roof. When he reached the top, Emyrs was there to greet him.

"Did you just throw your clothes over the edge?" he huffed, looking up at her.

Her hazel eyes were as blank as Mike's. "Don't you need to meet up with your family?" Her voice, low and flat, made Casey more nervous.

"What do you mean?"

"Go to them. Now. And take Michelangelo with you."

He stood firm. "Do you know what's happening here, old lady?"

"I have purged myself. These birds of filth have flown away," she reacted, gazing at the sky and slowly reaching for her side.

His eyes bulged when she revealed a holster and its handgun. "And where the hell did you get that?"

"Leave. I will protect myself."

When she unsnapped the gun from her side and held it up beside her face, Casey didn't feel like arguing anymore and hurried away. Turtles with swords and sais, turtles with guns … he was seeing it all now. He didn't want to leave her, but he didn't want to be beside her either. The toots was on her own.

As Casey Jones crawled back into the apartment, Mike wasn't the only one sitting on the sectional.


	36. Chapter 32 :: Wings

_Synopsis: Umeko pledges undying loyalty to Lisa. It is a bond that Umeko tends to keep. The plans are now set in motion._

_Young Abigail Becker spends time with her sensei, Leonardo, on an icy playground where Memories will never die._

_The Christmas tree, a symbol of spirit and happiness, became Casey's worst nightmare. But a bumbling act by Emyrs somehow brings Mike out of his room and out to decorate a forgotten tradition. April and Casey promise to meet and discuss a fresh avenue._

_

* * *

_

_A/N - Thanks to **AmbrosianRebel**, my new beta reader for the remaining chapters. For Donatello and Leonardo fans, here you go. I'm sorry for neglecting them; they're a little harder for me to write and I wanted to give them the best representation. - M_

* * *

A chubby, azure hand streamlined for Shadow's hair, intending to grab a good chunk off the tot's head before April scooped the tenacious half-breed in her arms. Josh fiddled and struggled in April's man-hold, and the exasperated babysitter looked at the wall clock numerous times hoping Irma would magically come through the door. Thank goodness she learned from Raphael how to hold down an opponent, even it was just a baby. This baby Josh was no ordinary toddler: damn super chubby monster McBaby. April had a fleeting moment when she wondered if all four of the Hamato brothers had been like Josh, and if so, why Splinter had a shred of fur left on his body.

Her eyes settled on a hibernating Shadow, who momentarily would rub her nose and face. It was too cute for anything. Those rosy cheeks, small breaths, and wiggling toes made April forget about Josh, who was still reaching for Shadow from April's hold. She dropped the fussy Josh just as he was about to take a chunk out of April's exposed arm. The toddler whimpered and fell onto his back. Knowing how close she came to being his next victim, she rubbed the spot where his teeth would have been sitting. There had been other biting or gnawing accidents, mostly piercing the skin, but after Emyrs' vicious attack, and the phone conversation with Em a few minutes ago.. April wasn't going to take any more chances with the teething tot.

April's brown curls hurdled with her train of disjointed thoughts. The slow tide of adversity was crashing on the beach with groaning, threatening waves. The last month-no- the last _three_ months of events were accelerating, and her body could sense the powerful storm approaching. Life had settled down in the previous three years and she wasn't ready for another enterprise, another toasted apartment, encounters with the third, fourth, and fifth kinds or anything of the sort. She finally had a child, though not her blood but still very much in her arms, and she was now working on stability. The boat rocked too hard for too long. It didn't kick up dust.

Will things ever be quiet again? Now that felt like deja-vu: flashback to the days of wading in sewer water and screaming at a bunch of giant mutant turtles who were asking if she needed help. Anything lives in New York City, she remembered. _Anything_.

"April?" Irma's mild tone stabbed through the mind mud. "You look lost."

Josh reached for his mother, still on his back on the floor, and she affectionately called him a beetle before he pulled down her jogging sweats when he tried to stand up. April had no time to do anything but laugh at the mishap. All of the commotion stirred Shadow who lazily peered up at her mother and then plunked her head back down on the blanket.

"Josh! No!" Irma harshly whispered; he was trying to pull down her sweats again. "You want anything to eat, April? I'm about to go to work in a few."

"I'm full, thank you. Oh," April trailed off as Irma started for the kitchen, "I have an important message to give to you. Let's talk over your lunch."

* * *

He asked to take her coat, gloves, and hat, the gentleman that he was, and she couldn't refuse his kindness. But she didn't really want to take off the hat.

"You don't want to take off that hat, do you?" His voice was losing its kindness.

Look up, Abby demanded to herself. Oh, and his eyes weren't as kind either. Bummer.

Still, he was persistent. "I'm not going to laugh at you, if that's what you're worried about."

Abigail moped, and moped she did. Her shoulders were slouched, her knees buckled under the weight, and she already stopped looking dead into her teacher's eyes, but he was Mr. Persistent or Mr. Nosy- whichever- and his student was quickly letting her aggravation show.

"I'm going to make tea."

Footsteps echoed passed her ears. Leonardo was gone to make his tea. His stupid tea, his stupid kindness, his stupid stupidness, and how stupid he made her feel right then! Abby fumed under her hat, it was all stupid!

"Leo, are you making some tea?"

That was Donatello, coming from somewhere in the lair; she didn't know because she wasn't going to turn around and be stupid. She wanted to be stupid and sad in peace.

"Why is Abigail tensed up by the doorway?" Donatello shouted and then dropped something on the floor.

"Girl problems," Leo whispered but just loud enough to be cocky.

To which Donatello replied, "I'm going back to the shop. Could you bring some tea when it's finished?"

The door roared shut, almost impatiently so, and Abigail's fist unclenched, her tension broke, and it all went away with the door's rebound. She was very thankful for small favors: for Donatello's phobia of teenage girls.

The hat didn't come off, but she did join society again. Upon walking into the den, Leonardo was rearranging photo albums and humming to himself. Always the chipper one, always the productive one. Even when handling photographs, his touch was tender and sleek. Abigail was amused by the thought that he could probably pick up a porcupine or a jellyfish the same way and never flutter an eye. His martial arts teaching techniques were amazing and mind-blowing. She could even read some of his moves in the last month while training but get him alone picking flowers or something serene, and she was pogo-sticking around eggshells. Her list of similes could go on forever at this point.

While she pondered more on Teacher versus putting on his sock, Teacher versus a stubborn mule, etc., he was trying to give her a handful of pictures.

"Mikey was asleep in," he held on to the last word and pointed to a random photo, "this one, and Raph put shaving cream in his hand."

He switched photos. "Here's the after-math." Shaving cream all over the chunky Mikey's face.

"Mother has a picture of us," Abigail began after cracks of laughter and continuing to shuffle through the photos, "and we were on a playground. She was dressed up like a mafia person and acting serious. I stood behind her on the slide with a clueless look. That's all I can remember about it."

"Speaking of mafia, check this out." Leonardo held up a worn photo, looked like it had seen better days, but he and his brothers were in some black suits, sporting hats and exhibiting ultimate attitude. She smiled and blushed faintly, having never seen the brothers in that getup and having her teacher grinning at her behind the photo. It all needed to move on now so she didn't bother asking why they were dressed that way, why Raphael was holding a gun with a gleam in his eye, or why Donatello was holding his tongue out like he was going to seductively lick something. It was repulsive for her to see or think of the young men in that way. Was her teacher trying to make her feel uncomfortable?

Next photo: Splinter was asleep. Boring.

"Look closer," Leonardo instructed, grinning like a mad cat again.

Her teacher's-pet teacher was giving Splinter bunny ears. It wasn't as slapstick-funny as shaving cream on Mikey's face, but it sent more giggles streaming from her chest and making her realize that sass wasn't the only humor trait he possessed.

"But the hat," the vivacious teacher alluded with his grey eyes shining, "Remove it, please."

Every bit of his sentence made her swallow back those giggles. Was this some motivational training? Leonardo could ask his student to do cartwheels or flips in the den, even sing a holiday song, but removing the hat was asking too much.

"No."

She practically barked it out before realizing what was happening. If he wanted her to remove the hat, he would have to rip it from her head. And he wasn't going to do that. He was a gentleman. There was a fine line between a teacher and a bully.

Leonardo didn't appear shocked by her refusal. If Abigail wasn't so sure of herself, she thought he was smiling, as if he was enjoying this game.

"Would you care to clean the bathroom? It's not too messy since Raphael hasn't been around these days," a bit of that cockiness began cooking again, "and that isn't up for discussion."

Abigail wanted to clean the bathroom more than fighting over her hat and what she was hiding from Sensei. While she retrieved the gloves and face mask, the thought of a bathroom in a sewer lair crossed her feeble mind again. She remembered asking Donatello if he came up with the idea, but it was a shocker to find that Leonardo implemented and executed the renovation.

For once she could agree, while looking down the toilet, that Leonardo was correct about Raphael not being there. Donning her gloves, face mask, unyielding hat, and enough chemicals to gas a country, Abigail Becker made sure that one could eat off the toilet once her work was completed. Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub away your bad feelings, it cruised through her mind, and she hope that, somewhere, her mother would be safe while duty calls.

* * *

Tea time rung through the lair, and Abigail was instructed to serve a hot cup to Donatello in his workshop. When she entered the shop, she was surprised to hear that Don liked eighties metal.

"Tea!" she blurted out to him, but his head was stuck under the hood of their military-esque vehicle. A twelve year old couldn't begin to describe the thing. It was big and looked like it could take down Godzilla.

Donatello still didn't realize Abigail was there. He fidgeted, clanked around some tools, and cursed before looking up in time to see her getting ready to down his music.

"I got it, I got it," he mumbled and rushed to the boombox. He washed the fresh grease off his hands. "Is that my tea?"

"All yours." She handed it to him and watched him turn the cup a certain way, smell it, blow on it, and take a sip. Don's eyes clouded with embarrassment.

"I have a quirky way of drinking. Sorry."

She bypassed the train of disaster. "You like eighties?"

He blinked and fell blank. Abby had to point to the boombox. "Oh! Eighties! That eighties! It's okay. Raphael still had the cd in there and I needed a little background noise. Helps me concentrate."

Donatello sipped more on his drink and walked back to the vehicle; meanwhile, Abigail had to take a peek around the workshop. From the way his brothers always gloated about Don, she expected to see a clean, organized, high tech workshop with labels, computers, and plans for world domination. Her foot tripped over several parts on the ground, and she realized what a cluttered, junky disaster area it was, and it housed a ton of old equipment and parts. There were three computers in the corner, but with all of the paperwork and trash around them, it was hard to tell if the junk was the actual desk.

"Hey! Be careful! This is no place for children!"

Or adults, she shot, trying not to trip again. She heard a tiny _ting_ bounce off the ground and investigated. Abigail bent down and stayed in a crouched position, examining the piece of jewelry she found on the Jones' kitchen floor. It just fell out of her pocket and, in response, triggered a need to find out who was the owner. She studied it carefully and almost hit a brainstorm as she got to her feet .. but was interrupted when she thumped Donatello on the chin with her head. It hurt her more than it did him.

Her hat floated down to the floor, in the pile of Donatello's mechanical graveyard. She gasped. He gasped. He looked at her without the hat and gasped more.

Too many gasps later, Abigail fumbled around to grab her hat and ducked out of the workshop. While Donatello wanted to ignore a troubled girl's moment that he had nothing to do with and get back to his engine, the better part of him willed his body to follow the trail of tears.

Donatello Hamato stood outside the bathroom, finding the words to console a twelve year old that her hair would grow back and the world was still puppies and butterflies, in his own way.

"Listen," he began, leaning on the door, "Hair generally grows an average of 1/2-inch per month with growth generally predetermined by a person's genetic code, meaning that it can only grow so fast."

"I don't know my genetic code!" she rambled from the toilet. "I'm a half breed and technically I'm not supposed to have hair with my turtle genes."

"Okay then," he stumbled and rubbed his chin, "it might be slower for you. In a year, hair usually grows about 6 inches."

She rubbed her head with way less hair. "So if mine is slower, I'm looking at a year and a half?"

Donatello already drove himself into a dead end. "Maybe two years."

Bless him for trying, she whimpered and got up to look in the mirror. Mother didn't know what she was doing. Mother wasn't feeling well. There was no way she could have attacked her mother. The sound of the shears slicing through her frizzy nest drilled through her eardrums again, and she grabbed a comb to weave through what she had left on her head. It was either that or screaming and crying and making Donatello feel worse on the other side.

While she salvaged her mop, there were whispers outside the door, and when his voice trickled into the bathroom, Abigail lost all color in her face.

"If you open the door, I promise not to look at you."

"But Donatello will."

"I relieved him of his duties. Cut him a break, he's not used to female teenagers."

"Sensei," she leaned on one side of the sink, "With all due respect, I don't think you are either."

"My student," his reply made her smile a little, "I don't think anybody is."

She held her hand on the knob, ready to unlock the door. "You promise?"

He never missed a beat. "I promise."

When Abby opened the door, he was using his old blue bandanna to cover his eyes. They never wore the masks anymore, she recalled, and it always felt so sacred to them, echoing who they were during most of their lives. Leonardo kept his mounted on his wall; Mikey, on his desk; Raphael, in his back pocket wherever he went, and Donatello, around his main terminal area. Never out of reach, never far from memory.

She was about to ask if he needed help entering but he was a ninja master and made it inside before she could finish her thought. Abby took her seat back on the toilet and gripped her hands nervously. The door was still open and now anybody could see inside.

Kindly, Sensei's hands rubbed her head, and her first reaction was to move so that he would get the hint to stop petting her. Instead, she counted the patterns on his shirt and cupped a palm under her chin.

"It's not too bad. May I help you?"

Why did his voice have to be as smooth as silk, and as genuine as such? It made her feel worse than she already felt and embarrassed that she didn't better handle her problem.

"Look at these photos for a second. They're funny, and you'll remember these."

He plucked them out of his shirt pocket and handed them down to her. As Abby straightened them and had a peek, a picture of Mother and Splinter playing their chess game was gleaming back at her.

"Two months ago. Remember one of the many gatherings we had?"

She bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh. "Hey, I took this one!"

"You don't take good pictures, little lady."

"I know." Because the next photo was an up-close picture of Splinter's eye, filling the entire photo. She couldn't conjure up why she zoomed in that far. From the batch she held, she took three of the photos and all of them were crap: Splinter's eye, Mother's arm, and she tried to get everyone in a shot but got the top of their heads and the ceiling. The rest were taken by Leonardo and Donatello, picture perfect. She had to stop on a calm photo of her mother, smiling, looking very relaxed, and then the bum beside her, Raphael, not looking as equally relaxed. Despite it all, that particular gathering had been nice and pretty amusing. Mother had recalled the tale of her first meeting with Casey, reenacting every bit of it, from taking his lunch to him and then Casey screaming that two of his coworkers were doing naughty things in the back and that Mother almost caught them. He was ashamed of it and started screaming and flailing around his arms. Poor Mother, Abigail remembered, thought she was going to get hit that day by his kinetic body and tried to tell Casey that she had seen many more naughty encounters while working in a bar. Mother's mimicking of Casey's moment had been the highlight of the evening.

Leonardo could tell from her giggling which photo she chose next; he jokingly recited from the performance, "If you had been here TWO SECONDS earlier, you would have seen -" and he had to stop since the rest of it was a little naughty for a twelve year old to hear. Casey could make a dead person laugh, and he was never going to forget that moment because everybody always says to him, "TWO SECONDS!"

The first photo repeated, and she looked up to give him back the bundle and saw his grey eyes spilling on her face. She couldn't turn away so a long breath escaped her lips and she gave him a sad smile. The bandanna had to come off eventually.

Leonardo found shears on the sink and washed his hands. Abigail didn't watch her teacher, only heard scattered noises and braced herself for him to work on her frazzled head. It would take a miracle, she dreaded, and even Leonardo's wings didn't shine enough for her.

* * *

Donatello fussed around the engine bay, connecting and disconnecting wires, hitting his elbow on several spots, and forgetting that the hood was above him. He had been drilling in that bay for days and was losing his patience with the problem. It was difficult for him to just walk away from a problem since that's all he would think about while at his desk or watching a movie. Donatello knew his mind was a little upset from the unusual phenomenon called a teenage girl in their presence. As long as he wasn't being interrupted in his comfort zone, he was as laid-back as a moose, but when it came to people and their personal battles, Don wasn't a therapist. He used to be, but it got him nowhere (and he didn't get paid for it) and the only lending ear he gave was to his family and April. Everyone else had their own boat to paddle and their own waters to wage.

The oily wrench juggled on his cheek while he studied the manifold for the last time. He may not be everyone's therapist, but he wasn't a heartless bastard. Also, he wanted to see the progress of Leonardo's makeover. It wasn't too often the green boys got to practice their cosmetology skills. This was something different, and it perked his interest.

He stopped short of the bathroom opening, glossy light seeping into the passageway. He slightly curved the corner to swiftly peek inside but froze again. "Hey, uh," his voice felt so huge to him, "can I come in?"

"Sure." Her tone chimed an alternate tune, relieved and relaxed at the same time. That was a good sign, he chuckled.

Stepping into the light, Donatello cocked his head and his grin grew wider as she turned to face him. Amazing what a makeover could do to make someone appear older.

"I had to clip a lot of it off, but I think I did okay," Leo nodded. "From the way Don is looking at you, it's an improvement?"

"Leo, she's twelve," Don's half-flat voice retorted. "You did a great job. You saved her confidence."

"It's almost a new me," she rejoiced. "It still curls around my face and has volume but less frizz."

Leonardo stepped beside her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "You look an awful lot like your adopted mother. I wonder how that is possible?"

"Well," Donatello joined the mirror party, "the same way I guess couples start to look like each other after being together for so long?"

"They have the same hazel eyes, the same face formation," Leo pointed to the mirror. She was starting to overheat with their bodies edging over the sink.

"I see what you mean!" Don peered into the mirror and then dove into her actual face. "That's very interesting!"

"I can see into your stomach, Donatello," Abigail mused and shifted her face. "It's a coincidence, that's all. Mother's never been pregnant, and she's tocophobic."

"Really?" Don squeaked. "That's not a good thing if our race wants to survive. There's not that many of us at all. Talk about irony."

Leonardo fluffed out Abigail's hair. "I still think there's something there, Abby. You look a lot like her."

Abigail rubbed her face and neck free of the occasional bits of hair left. She was trying to avoid more discussion of her mother; it was time to change that subject. "How is your father these days?"

"How am I these days? I'm cold," Splinter's gravelly voice and body appeared in the reflection. "And I'm hungry. Whose turn is it to cook?"

"Raphael's, but he's not here," Don mumbled, "So that means me."

"Should I take you back to your mother?" Leonardo whispered as Splinter and Don disputed in the background. Splinter muttered something about not wanting to die from flatulence at bedtime.

Abby flinched. "I should but I don't want to."

"Call her first."

That's why Sensei was her idol, she nodded and rustled between a bickering Donatello and Splinter. Leonardo finally had to step in and seize the cooking duties.

She had to stop and feel her hair again as she dialed the number to the Jones apartment. Everything was going to be okay, Abigail sensed, and her mother didn't have to worry about anything now.


	37. Chapter 33 :: Redemption

_Synopsis: Irma's chubby, cranky little boy named Josh gives a little light in a bleak situation. _

_Donatello and Leonardo saved a young girl's image and waxed her confidence to a pulsing shine. Abigail was then ready to call her mother and make truce. _

_However, Lisa and Umeko are visiting Casey and Mike, and neither woman plans to leave without the Hamato man._

* * *

"Hi."

The window was freezing, and there Casey Jones stood on the fire escape, wondering who the two new guests were sitting on his sectional. A greeting was about all he could muster as he stood shivering in his thin sweats.

A fox-looking dame stood with a face like stone. "Do not move."

"I'm kinda cold, lady. Can I at least come inside MY HOUSE?"

The lizard woman, and an attractive one at that, motioned for Casey to come inside. He cautiously obliged and avoided jumping into the tree. The fox and Casey glared at each other, wondering who was going to strike first.

Lisa nervously placed her hand on Mike's shoulder. Mei needed to finish her business on the rooftop and get back to the matter at hand as soon as possible. The seconds screamed in her ears, and Umeko was ready to pounce on Casey, and vice versa.

It was going to be a long day, indeed.

* * *

"I see you." Emyrs turned with the poisonous words, aiming the gun at her target, "The filth that has been plaguing my mind all these years."

Mei stood with her hands in the air, profoundly shocked. "How are you able to see me now?"

"The little brat that bit me; his disease is like an antidote in an adult's body. You didn't calculate him into your plans, did you?"

Mei genuinely smiled, "I did not. I am delighted to finally talk with you, Emyrs Becker."

"Instead of AT me. You will answer my questions."

"I have the best intention to honor your requests," spoke Mei, "since you are pointing a gun at my head."

Emyrs scoffed, boldly stepping forward and hanging on to Mei's every syllable.

"I know you have a terrific aim, Ms. Becker. This makes me concerned."

The gun glistened in the sporadic sun's beam as Emyrs stole a moment to study her perennial opponent, the very core of her mental problems for so long. The apparition wasn't all to blame, but Mei was a good portion of it. The fiery red color of Mei's uniform burned into Emyrs' mind; it was a traditional wushu uniform with white collars, that much Emyrs could distinguish.

The collected Mei blinked her gold-to-blue irises. "Your questions?"

Marginally relaxing her aim, Emyrs cleared her throat and raised her chin. "Why are you here? Why have you followed me?"

"I want my daughter back."

Mei had answered so quickly that it stole Emyrs' breath for a second, and Mei was very sincere with her words. No cockiness, no attitude.

"She's yours then, huh? You're the woman who left me the note twelve years ago? And an infant?"

"Yes." Mei lowered her arms and crossed them behind her back. "I would like to visit and get to know my daughter."

"All of this stupid shit just so you can see her?" Emyrs raised her voice. The wind was increasing around them. "And why are you dragging others into this mess?"

"I need Michelangelo. He has come to accept me, and I will take him back with me."

"Back where?"

"You do not remember anything?"

Splashed by a touch of irritation, uncertainty gnawed at Emyrs' insides. Channeling lost, empty memories wouldn't do her any good in this confrontation with an artificial Monster.

Mei carefully squinted her face, studying her opponent. "Your eyes are not the same anymore. _You_ are not the same anymore."

"Which means you no longer need me. The Hamato boy is your next victim, right?" The breeze slowly died but Emyrs didn't lower her voice. "You'll drain him like you drained me."

"I have committed no such act or plan to do so."

A sharp wail bellowed from the ground and_ was _followed by a minuscule mew with the sounds quickly trapped by the air. Mei tried to move towards the sound, but a glossy snap pointed in her direction. Mei's lips curled at the edges. "Put down the gun, Ms. Becker. There is more important business below our feet."

Emyrs' hazel eyes descended, the pistol slightly shaking and whispered, "_Du folgst mir nicht mehr_."

* * *

Hoarding a frantic Rosie in his coat and balancing on his skateboard, Zach stopped as soon as he heard a single gunshot echoing from Casey's apartment building. Several pedestrians looked to the sky towards the direction of the sound, muttered a few words, and waddled passed a bewildered Zach. He swallowed hard, fingers quivering from the weather and nerves as he inched his way closer to the building. His first reaction was to run away, but he did that the last time and stole Michelangelo's cat, screwing up once again.

Holding the skateboard and Rosie is in his shallow arms, Zach alleviated the courage he had bottled up for a long time_._ Although his feet were like magnets trolling across the pavement, a gut instinct pulled his body towards the building. There was a chill in his stomach and a cat's jagged claws pricking against his skin, but none of it could hold him back. He had to close his eyes for most of the way to the door, and he nearly expelled his bowels when a hand aggressively grabbed him out of nowhere.

"Get that cat in there!"

He recognized the accent: the scary turtle lady.

"Open your eyes, Weasel! How do you expect to see anything?" She bopped him on the face a few times. Rosie wailed from the coat and Zach dropped the skateboard in the excitement.

"Take the cat in there, and prove yourself to be a man," Emyrs chirped and picked up his skateboard. "They need you right NOW."

"Why won't you go in?" He almost squished Rosie with the skateboard.

She gave him a much lighter tap on the face. "You're much more useful at this point than me. You have to go now."

He couldn't object because she disappeared around the building, and Rosie bit the crap out of him so it was time to deliver that Holy Grail Kitty.

"I don't know who you broads are, but you ain't taking no one out of here!"

Umeko furiously swished her tail and branded her eyes into Casey's face, chewing on his threats. Lisa had the sudden urge to police the situation.

"Umeko, let's make it out of here without hurting anybody. Got that? You said you would listen to me!"

Casey jabbed his finger at Lisa. "Touch my green buddy there and I'll wipe the floor with you!"

Lisa's face fell, and Umeko boldly stepped forward. "Say nothing to her. You say your threats to me."

He wasn't going to back down easy, even in his jammies. "Are all women bat-shit insane, or is it just my luck?"

Umeko threw a short warning look to her partner who nodded back and made the preparations to pick up Mike. It took Lisa a hefty minute since Mike was a little heavier than herself but she managed to carry him to the kitchen counter and lean him against it. His body was cold to the touch, and she checked his vitals out of concern. She could rest a little easier knowing that he was still alive.

Casey used the small window of opportunity to survey his own living-room and devise a half-botched plan; he was never good at plans but maybe what he learned from the Turtles after all those years could come in handy now. He silently moved in the opposite direction of the room, positioning himself on the other side of the coffee table. "Look, Fuzzy, you better be glad my daughter isn't in this house. At least that means I don't have too much to worry about when I demolish this place and throw your ass out that window!"

"You don't scare me, Human."

"Other than his sweatpants..." Lisa squeaked from the counter. Casey subconsciously adjusted his sleepwear.

Casey's pupils danced their mightiest and his grin flashed, "I wonder how your pelt will look under my coffee table, toots!"

Lisa's heart skyrocketed through the roof as Umeko growled and charged for Casey; he cupped his foot under the coffee table and chucked the furniture into Umeko. She only had the blink of an eye's time to react, using a two-handed open-palmed bash to disintegrate the table. The jagged pieces scattered all over the apartment, causing Lisa to protect Mike's body. One fragment lodged itself into her leg, and she screeched from the impact.

Adrenaline inflating through his body, Casey reached for the closest weapon and his next plan of action: a floor lamp. Unfortunately, during his heroic endeavor, Casey forgot the lamp was plugged into the wall with the cord wedged behind a giant, heavy bookcase. Umeko leaped over the sectional and narrowly missed a flying shelf and its many paperbacks.

Casey was certain he had the situation under control, but Umeko the WildKat struck his face just as he ripped the cord out of its socket. He boomeranged off the wall and landed on the bookcase. Casey could feel the heat and blood on his face as a stuffy slew of Japanese words poured from Umeko's throat. _The fox bitch used her claws to tear the skin right off_, he fumed, but the fight wasn't over in his book.

Umeko dodged a wild, ferocious swing from her opponent and fed off the battle's fury. Her right hand captured Casey's throat, only an inch from suffocating him and forced her leg into his knee. When she didn't think that he screamed enough through her grip, he was lowered and her knee hooked into his chest.

Life was starting to fade, blinking black to color and color to black, and Casey slid out of her loosened grip and slumped onto his knees. The cautious Umeko watched him choking and coughing as her quick breaths murmured in her chest.

"Umeko," muttered Lisa, weakly leaning over Mike, "I told you not to hurt him."

Lisa's partner didn't respond and never took her eyes off Casey.

The eye of the storm was interrupted when Zach crashed through the door and held up Rosie. He closed his eyes and squeezed the cat, causing her to rabidly screech and wail. Rosie's cries nudged Mike's comatose soul; his memories played like beats on a drum.

Little Mikey, age five, heard a kitty cat down in the dark tunnel. Little Mikey was all alone; his brother Raphael had left to go get their other brothers and demanded Mikey not to leave his spot. But the kitty sounded hurt from where Mikey was sitting, and his little heart shattered on the ground, echoing with the kitty's cries. He gathered up the courage in a big ball and stood to his feet, marching down the dreary tunnel. The kitty's wails got louder and louder, and Mikey whispered, "I'm here. I'm here. Don't cry no more."

He found the kitty cat tucked away in a corner with just a little light pouring onto it. A black and white kitty peered at him and weakly hissed.

"I'm Mikey. Can I hold you?"

Kitty hissed and puffed into a ball of fluff. Mikey slowly reached for it, humming his favorite song and it being the only tune his five year old mind knew. It was taught to him by his most favorite person in the world.

"My daddy sings to me when I'm scared. I get scared a lot."

Kitty wailed and stuffed its head between the wall and its body, feeling its doom near, but little Mikey petted it and continued humming.

"One day I'll be big and strong like my brothers. No more calling me Baby Mikey. Are you scared, kitty? Where is your mommy?"

Lifting its head and relaxing, Kitty mewed and allowed Mikey to pet its head.

"I don't know where my mommy is either. Can I help you find your mommy? You can't help me find mine. I think she 'bandoned me."

The kitty softly licked Mikey's chubby fingers. "But that's okay if we can't find your mommy. I can be your mommy."

Little Mikey and the Black and White kitty found friendship in a dark tunnel. Mikey was determined to find the kitty's mommy and headed for topside. He remembered a spot where no humans could find him_._ He couldn't lift the heavy manhole covers but thankfully there were other ways. He squeezed the kitty through the opening and used his hands to push the grate but the thing wouldn't budge. Kitty cried for him, and just as he reached for it, its little body was smashed by a loud vehicle roar. He only saw blood and the last look it ever gave to him.

Little Mikey collapsed and cried until his stomach hurt. That's how his brother, Raphael, found him. Instead of screaming at Mikey for running away, the little five year old Raphael saw the kitten's splattered body over the grate.

Little Mikey woke up from his depression, but he wasn't as little anymore. He was ten and curious as a button. Mikey wanted a poptart but he was hiding behind a garbage dumpster and there were a lot of people walking around the area. He didn't get back to the manhole cover in time and Donatello couldn't return and save him.

He held an electronic device in his hands, something he had been wanting for a long time, and Don had finally found one in good condition. All the cool kids on television had them, and he had wanted one. Aerobic exercising couldn't hold his attention forever; he needed something different.

Mikey saw an opening and dashed for it but he ran into someone and knocked the person onto the sidewalk. He fumbled and almost dropped his treasure. What should he do? Go back the dumpster… or the manhole? Where should he go? The manhole was too far and there were more people coming. He yelped as a hand grabbed his arm, making him drop his treasure, and shoved his body behind the dumpster. His adolescent heart thumped hard in his chest as he looked up at his savior.

"It's not time for you to come out yet, little one."

The stranger spoke with an accented, female voice and she was covered from head to toe. He couldn't forget those penetrating hazel eyes. She uncovered her mouth and smiled down at him.

"Who are you? Are you like me?" he innocently blinked. His savior retrieved the treasure and placed it back in his hands.

"It's not broken."

Mikey grinned. "Thanks, lady. Where are you from?"

"Across a big ocean. Do you know of the Atlantic Ocean?" she quizzed. He noticed her skin was a light cream color.

"Of course. Don said it's that way." He pointed in a random direction and then hastily moved his arm in a different direction when he realized he gave the wrong answer.

She laughed. "Good. That's where I live."

"What are you doing here?"

The friendly lady stopped, like she had to think about her answer. "I ran away from home. Something you shouldn't be doing at your age."

"And how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"I bet your parents are worried about you, Lady."

"Yeah." A manhole cover echoed in the distance. "There's your ride, little one. Get there quick."

Ten year old Mikey disappeared in a heartbeat and never saw his savior again.

Klunk licked the bacon grease off the hand of a sixteen year old Mikey. Mikey loved his little furry pal and happily enjoyed the rough touch of Klunk's tongue. His brothers constantly ridiculed him for allowing the cat to lick his hands, but it was somehow affectionate and cute. Klunk would disappear for days at a time so any day that he could see the squeaky fuzzball, it called for special occasions like licking a green finger and quality comic book reading time.

As they were catching up on Justice Force Number Two-Ninety-Five, Klunk looked up at the sixteen year old Mikey and preciously mewed. It seemed like he cried for ages until Mikey opened his eyes once again. It was the final train stop in his recollection.

A groggy Michelangelo saw his best friend Casey on his knees, which was never a good sign. Rosie was squalling in Zach's grip. Zach? Mike groaned from the pain. What was Zach doing there? Why was he holding Rosie and making her cry?

He had no time to think and no time to evaluate the situation anymore. Casey's attacker, presumably the fox-lady in battle gear, was staring in Zach's direction, and the opportunity was golden. Mike soared from the counter and headbutted straight into Umeko's unsuspecting form and wrapped his arms around here. Lisa could barely move from her spot, and she chastised herself for not taking better control of the traumatizing events.

Umeko fumbled and squirmed in Mike's iron clutch. He used every ounce of his dissipating strength to keep the enemy at bay.

"Casey! GET OUT OF HERE!" Mike didn't recognize his own voice screeching from his throat and while he knew Casey wouldn't leave the climax of a fight, Mike wanted to take a shot in the dark. He didn't know how long his human friend had been fighting or if he was badly injured. The enemy was robust and Mike was quickly losing his dominance.

The phone resonated from the floor, and nobody was in the position or state of mind to answer it. It chirped five times before Casey regained himself and picked it up. He slammed the receiver multiple times onto Umeko's head and screamed, "It's for you!"

Underneath his fear, Mike found a chuckle and was proud to know that Casey was doing just fine. Casey demolished the phone and was ready to toss it to the ground, but he felt a sudden tug from behind him.

"Let go of me, you hussy!" he threatened and pushed Lisa off his body. She tripped over the broken table and smashed her head against the couch.

A windstorm of violence burst through Umeko after seeing Lisa hit the ground. Despite having her injured leg, Lisa tried to save her partner from further pain, and Umeko was engrossed with rage and pity for Lisa.

"ZACH! Get my bat out of my bedroom! Right over there!" howled Casey, still coughing and feeling his chest burn. Zach stuttered and stumbled his way through the debris, and he finally let go of Rosie after she clawed his hand multiple times. The scratches sizzled as he ran into Casey's room and scrambled to find the baseball bat. It was right where Casey always had it: on his messy side of the bed. A surge of accomplishment squashed Zach's prolonged numbness and the flight of life gave his arms the strength they needed to swing the bat in Casey's direction.

The bat swiftly landed in Casey's grip, at just the right time. Umeko snapped out of Mike's struggling hold and booted Mike in his face. He managed to avoid a square shot, but his right cheek and upper jaw wildly throbbed from the attack. Umeko watched Mike hit the floor in agony, but her attention turned to Casey, who was now holding his baseball bat, preparing to fight to the bitter end. Umeko casually drew her blade; she wasn't going to take the Human lightly any more.

Lisa mumbled her partner's name from the floor and struggled to sit up.

"Down, Alissa. This will be over soon," Umeko growled. Lisa's body numbed and she watched the showdown begin.

The room fluttered with a thousand pulses, beating out of sync, and to them, the outside world slammed on its brakes. Umeko struck first, swinging her sword from overhead, and Casey blocked the offense and thanked his lucky stars that he never went cheap when it came to purchasing his baseball bats. The bat held its own against the penetrating blade. Umeko cursed when she couldn't release her sword from the bat, and Casey twisted around to pop the sword out of her wavering grip. He blinked for a short second and felt the weight of her knee crush into his stomach. Saliva and traces of blood spewed from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Casey's abs were a ghost of their former selves, and he fell to his knees once more, crumbling under the pressure.

The Wildkat resolved her testy situation and recaptured her weapon from the damaged bat. Her arm slung back and she was certain that she wouldn't miss her target. In the nick of time, Casey deflected the strike again with his bat, being the only thing he knew what to do. Mike was struggling to get off the floor, but his mind was a constant swirl of incoherent images and sounds, as if something was pulling him back to the floor. He needed to help Casey; he needed to be of some use instead of a bumbling mass of nothing.

Mike heard a piercing, blood-curdling scream and jumped from the floor. Umeko had blasted through the bat and struck Casey. He was bent down on the floor, holding his left hand, screaming and shouting a jumbled mess of obscenities. Casey's heart breaking wails were drowned out by the sound of Mike slamming his fists into Umeko's face and pushing her into the television center and Christmas tree, accessories going down in a mad flurry. He was beyond furious and pushed his rage into every attack. They tumbled into everything, rolling on the floor and grunting through pellets of blood. The two got to their feet and continued wrestling, throwing punches and trying to hit weak areas of each others' bodies.

Zach noticed that Lisa had scooted back to the counter top and grabbed something out of her purse. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it looked like a gun. She was aiming for the two aggressors but had to buy her time for a clear shot at Mike. Zach pounced on Lisa and grabbed for the gun, but she elbowed him in the neck as he kept reaching up to steal the gun from her. The teenage boy fell back onto the wall and trembled from the pain. She watched him sluggishly slide down the wall and slump onto the floor, huddled in a mass. He wasn't in immediate danger, she snapped to herself, and aimed the gun back at Mike and Umeko.

Umeko saw Lisa's stance and, with the last few shreds of her power, jolted Mike against the far wall so that he would be in direct line with the gun.

"Now!" Umeko barked.

Something bounced off his shell when he pushed away from the wall. He could faintly see through hazy vision that a gun was being pointed in his direction.

"Again!"

Umeko's voice faded with a stab excruciating torment in his left arm. He realized that it was a tranquilizer gun when he looked down. It had painfully hit his bone, causing him to reflexively rip the injection from his arm. He cried, he cursed but he couldn't let these people succeed. Casey was searching around the floor, yelling for Mike to not give in and keep fighting. Mike recognized the red color spewing from Casey's hand.

April would never forgive him for letting Casey get hurt, Mike agonized. Shadow needed her father. Shadow needed her family.

The third shot flew over Mike's head.

"Where's Rosie!" Nothing was making too much sense anymore in this little room of blood.

Lisa took in a few more shaky breaths and gave the gun one last punch. It landed right in Mike's thigh.

"Mikey! MIKEY!" Casey reached for his green buddy with his injured hand.

"Casey.." Mike mumbled, breaths getting shorter. "I only see … three fingers .. on your h- aand."

The room fell into an eerie silence.

Lisa dropped the gun and released her soul into the air. She had to look at the ceiling and not at Mike, who was driving out of consciousness.

"Once he's out, I will take him away," commanded Umeko, her throaty voice thick with exhaustion. "But I cannot take you at the same time, Alissa."

Lisa nodded. "I'll be waiting."

Umeko picked up the gun and leaned over Casey, emptying the contents of the gun into his body. "This will help the pain. I am sorry for your loss."

Lisa agonizingly watched both men drift away. When she looked back to Zach, he was no longer on the floor but she could see Rosie's tail behind the bathroom door. She was mewing at something, or someone.

_Stay there, kid_, Lisa silently commanded, and _I'm sorry for hurting you.. and everyone_.

* * *

_A/N - You wanted action and you got it. Big thanks again to **AmbrosianRebel** for the beta. It helped so much! _


	38. Chapter 34 :: The Veil

_Synopsis: Casey Jones and Mike firmly stood their ground against a vicious Umeko but the boys lost in the end; Casey is now injured and Mike has been kidnapped._

_Some questions about Mei and Emyrs' past were answered but not before it ended abruptly and both vanished._

* * *

_Beta Reader: **MutantRebel**, fantastic job as always._

_For my grandfather. - M_

_

* * *

_

The confused Abby stared at the phone's receiver and put it back on the hook, still looking dazed. Leonardo brought her a cup of tea and frowned at her expression.

"How was your mother?"

"The oddest thing just happened." Abby graciously took the cup and waited for Splinter to join her on the couch; she scooted over to make room for him when he did. "It sounded like Casey picked up the phone but all I heard was him screaming 'it's for you!' and then there were pops on the other end. The line disconnected after that."

Leonardo and an intrigued Donatello swapped foreign looks.

"That's happened a few times before but Casey was usually in a brawl when that happened," Don said as he removed gum from his shoe's underside. He silently cursed and tossed the sticky debris in a nearby corner.

Leonardo watched him but continued to comment on the situation, "But who would Casey fight in the apartment? Only Mike and Ms. Becker are there."

Don and Leo both had weird, vivid thoughts of Casey in a fight with Mike and Emyrs.

After gulping down a lump of hot tea, Abby pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and gently handed it to the elder rat Sensei. "This is for you. I meant to give it to you when I got here, _Meister_."

Leo pointed to the corner, signaling Don to pick up the gum; Don obeyed and chuckled, "Better than calling him the _Fuhrer_. Casey almost got choked by the Germans because of that joke."

"Casey doesn't know when to stop. We had to keep him from doing the salute." Leo took his student's cup and headed to the kitchen.

While Splinter thoughtfully scanned the letter, Leo tinkered in the kitchen and Don browsed through a magazine on the table. There were moments when he made Abby jump because he had spotted something exciting in the articles and then mumbled an apology. She thought it would be funny if one could rewind and play his mannerisms back in slow motion. Don possessed a reserve about him with one giant button ready to be pushed at any given moment. Or that was how the tween saw the turtle man who was rapidly pointing at something in the magazine to Leonardo. Leonardo nodded, while smiling and handed his brother another cup of brew.

"An entire new way of ordering at your favorite restaurant will be here next year," Don said more to himself and the magazine than to the party. He flipped a page. "And I'm going to be the first in line."

Leo stood over his brother's shoulder and peered into the magazine. "I'll go with you this time."

"It's like a family tradition now," chuckled Don, giving a quick glance at Abby and then back to the magazine. "I took Mike the first few times and then Raph one time. Mike played his games all night and complained that it was too cold or too hot. Raph threatened to beat up anybody who stepped out of line. I somehow got to the front of the line and that was okay by me."

Don continued jabbering on about his adventures, occasionally stopping in order to talk about something in the magazine. Leo enjoyed his cup and seemed to follow Don's chain of conversation. There was no way Abby could follow anything they were saying, and she turned her attention back to Splinter as he read her mother's letter. She knew it didn't take long to read the short letter but he was going back over it and each time he did, his pointy ears would sag lower and his concerned face would fall further.

"Leonardo," the elder spoke; it blended with a sense of urgency and sentiment. "Please visit the Jones' household and give word back to us."

Donatello stood on his feet and almost opened his mouth to speak to Leo, but Leo's stern finger stopped Don in mid-action.

"I will report back immediately."

Her sensei was no longer in the room and the door didn't even make a noise as he left. Don was left speechless, facing the couch after a few moments.

"What prompted you to do that, Master?" Don's voice had changed, Abby noticed. It was nothing like the cheery voice he used with the magazine. It reminded her of the voice he had used that night on the rooftop, when he protected and hid her from the sudden threat.

Splinter placed the letter in his lap, and Abby saw her mother's scribbled handwriting; it wasn't her mother's normal style. When she looked back up at Splinter's face, his kind beady eyes summoned her. "You know your mother is not well. She has not been well for a while now."

He continued gracefully, "The bond is strong, but it has been broken. Do you know that little feeling you get in your stomach sometimes?"

Abby acknowledged, "The one you feel when something is wrong?"

"Or any time. Good or bad feelings."

"Yes."

Splinter handed her the letter. "You may read. From the look on your face, your mother has been this way before."

Abby read every line of text multiple times_, _each attempt draining more color from her face. It really was starting all over again_. _How could a mere child stop such a tragedy being so far away from familiarity? She heard the buzzing in her head and it reached the tips of her fingers, numbing them and spreading its poison through the rest of her body.

Donatello gently took the paper away from her grasp and patted her on the head. She didn't like crying in front of others but the tears were swelling fast. He knelt down so that he could be at eye level with her, smiling at her; he didn't have to say any words to her.

"Where is the carpet?" Splinter mumbled and rose from his seat. Abby saw Don's face melt into sadness as he tugged on his father's arm.

"I'll make you a sandwich, Master. Come."

"I don't like mayonnaise."

"I know what you like."

Splinter and Don strolled into the kitchen; Splinter's voice sounded almost lost. "The carpet needs to be cleaned, Michelangelo."

"He'll clean it later, Master. I'm here and I will make you a sandwich."

"Can you prepare some cake?"

"Chocolate?" Donatello moved a chair for Splinter.

"Strawberry and cream."

Don opened a cupboard and agreed, "Coming right up. Why don't you tell me a story while you wait?"

* * *

The only way Lisa could evacuate the apartment building was through the front door, like a normal person would, and she had to hobble everywhere. A couple of the tenants and pedestrians gave her strange looks, but she had to be steadfast against the pain, the awkward situation, and the stabbing sensation of being a deserter. She deserted Casey Jones. She deserted that young boy who was hurting in the bathroom. She had vowed to complete her tasks so why was Alisa, the Mona Lisa, the Untouchable Lady, the entertainer... why did she want to collapse and sob uncontrollably in front of everyone?

Her heart and head throbbed throughout her body, and she had to stop a short distance from the apartment and lean against the corner of a building. Numbness trickled down her arms and legs, and the city sounds were becoming dull whispers. She tried to hold her head up, but it was slowly drooping along with the rest of her body. The alleyway next to her was the only safe haven for now so she pushed her heavy body around the corner and descended into the murky pathway. Something hard hit her left cheek as she hit the ground, but it was just pressure at this point. Lisa didn't know if her entire body made it into the alleyway or not, and by now she could only wiggle her limbs and blink.

"What a surprise," a drumming delivery hung over her stiff form. Lisa had just enough energy to see who it was and she surged with anxiety and regret at the revelation. "The last time we met I was on the ground and you were standing over me. I love how life does this sort of thing."

He wasn't as intoxicated this time, but the RhinoMan's sober personality wasn't a walk in the park. Lisa noticed he had a scar from her high heel shoe attack on Thanksgiving night. What was the date today, she pondered, was it a month later already?

He bent down and grabbed a soft chunk of her hair in his hands, and his awful stench wafting on her skin. "Merry Christmas, you tramp. Here's my gift back to you."

She tried to move her hands but none of her body would budge this time. Her leg wound had taken control of her limbs and the paralysis was sweeping a peaceful feeling over her. She didn't feel much when he gripped her hair and lifted her head off the ground but the crack of a bullet piercing the alley's air wasn't hard to miss at all.

A Christmas miracle, Lisa smiled inside as she slipped into unconsciousness for a brief moment.

* * *

Before Leonardo even reached the Jones' fire escape, he could sense the calamity emitting from the window. He did and he did not want to investigate, feeling his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He was steady and resilient, and his brothers, hopefully, had always understood why Leonardo had to maintain the unbreakable veil.

It was so he wouldn't fall apart at seeing chaos, like the one in Casey and April's apartment.

The living room was ground zero: glass everywhere, the tree and its ornaments scattered, the bookshelf on the floor, books all around, and the entertainment center was more like a fortress of parts. After a quick survey of the room, Leo found Casey behind the sectional.

"Case! Case!" Leo tapped his friend's face multiple times and shook him. Checking his pulse, Casey still seemed to be breathing. "Oh man, Case, what happened here?"

Leo's trembling voice caught in his throat as he moved his arms around Casey's body. He could smell blood all over Casey, and the search for the source didn't take long: Casey was missing three fingers off his left hand. Leo gently put his friend on the floor and carefully sifted through the mess to find the missing limbs. The Hamato brother needed to keep his cool while shuffling through glass and books, but it was hard to swallow the idea of his loved one being injured in any way. The veil was cracking at its surface, and as he found and picked up Casey's digits, Leonardo's chest tingled and passion consumed his mind. He didn't hear Rosie sneaking up behind him and almost stepped on her.

"Rosie!" Leo missed the cat merely seconds before locating the last finger. "Where's Mike? Where's Mike? Is he in his room?" Rosie didn't make a sound and sympathetically looked up at Leo.

Mike's bedroom door was open, and Leo dashed through the clutter and into the room. It was a hellhole too, but there was no brother. Not a single piece.

"MIKE!" Leo cried, his veil being cut once more. The feeling of holding Casey's fingers in his hand became jarring as he rushed back to the kitchen for a container. As he found a small container, the sound of sniffles trickled from the restroom. Rosie galloped into the room and cried at something in there. Leo followed the sounds and couldn't push the restroom door all the way back. Behind the door, he found a young boy with his tear stained face gathered upon the floor.

"Who are you? What happened here?" Leo knew he was being a little severe with the shaken lad but there was no time to comfort anybody. The boy's response of sobs and gulps frustrated Leonardo, causing him to roughly push through the small bathroom in order to directly face the boy. Leo was about to force answers out of the boy but stopped once he realized the boy's identity.

"Look up at me," his voice calming down and he knelt in front of the teen. "Zach. It's okay. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

Zach's dirty blonde hair was in shambles, and his face and hands were soaked from the waterworks. Rosie rubbed against him but he pushed her away, chastising her through his sobs.

"I need to know what happened, Zach. Casey is badly injured. Was Mike involved?"

Rosie rubbed against Leo's leg as Zach rubbed his eyes and throat. He squeaked out something inaudible, and Leo had to lean in to understand the boy.

"He was. They got him." Zach's coarsely whispered.

Leo's eyes darkened. "Who got him?"

"A fox and a lizard lady," he sobbed and shifted his body. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You got a nasty bruise on your throat. They got you, too?" Leo rubbed his thumb across Zach's trauma. "You did good, Zach. Thank you. Relax now."

Zach closed his eyes and squirmed in his spot. Leo's warm compliments were welcoming to his tainted heart, and when the boy thought he had done nothing to save his friends, Leonardo swooped in and gave Zach his confidence back.

After rubbing over Zach's tangled head of hair, Leo vacated the restroom and tried to find the living room telephone. It was in a million scattered pieces on the floor, and he quickly remembered that there was another phone in the bedroom. Dialing the emergency line, talking with the operator, and waiting for the services gave him a little room to breathe and collect himself. He sat on Casey's side of the bed and peered up at the ceiling. In the outlines, he could see a dove and a fork.

His ears picked up a tiny squeaking sound from the bathroom. When he followed the sound, he caught Zach trying to escape through the window.

"You should come to the hospital with us," Leo calmly asked, standing at the door. Zach was halfway out the window.

"I'm fine," his voice sounded better, "and I don't want to get in the way. If my parents know about me in the E.R., I'll never hear the end of it."

Zach gave his old friend one last look. "Thanks again. You were always my favorite."

A knock at the front door alerted Leo, drawing his gaze away from the teen. When he turned back to the bathroom window, Zach was gone without making a sound. Leo grinned and closed the door.

When Leo greeted the paramedics, they paused for a moment.

"It's a human that's injured I can assure you," Leo informed and allowed the paramedics to come into the chaotic home. Once they knew Leo was telling the truth, they immediately starting working on stabilizing Casey. Leonardo couldn't allow his mind to muddle; he had to be as attentive and cooperative as possible for the paramedics. He was declined a ride in the ambulance, but he was certain his feet and the wind could carry him to the hospital faster.

As much as he wanted to pull a Raphael and go cruising for revenge, Leo had to be one of the first people Casey saw when he woke up. Breaking through the icy air, Leo's first thought was how he was going to contact April with the news.

His last thought was the many ways he was going to kill the attackers.


	39. Chapter 35 :: Mu, The Tree

_Synopsis: It's Christmas Day, and Leo finds Casey's apartment in shambles. He immediately gets Casey the required help and vows to take revenge on those who hurt his friend. _

_Lisa isn't having a terrific Christmas either. She's injured and barely makes it down the street, collapsing in an alleyway. An old patron from her bar pays her a visit._

_Beta Reader: **The Mutant Rebel**  
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* * *

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Bullets, screams, blood, and pain blended into the Dullness. Her cheeks wouldn't move with her lips; her entire face had no quiver. She couldn't even feel the snow on the pavement.

RhinoMan's curses thudded through the alley after the bullet's smash. She couldn't make out anything he was screaming.

A voice dripped in the general direction of her feet; it sounded almost feminine. Someone was standing at the entrance, holding the weapon and barking at the Rhinoman. Again, she couldn't hear the exact words being spoken.

A Christmas miracle, she remembered thinking as the indistinct field devoured her senses.

* * *

The blue-violet river was always the starting point; it weaved downstream, splashing against the rocks and gently secured one's concentration. The River belonged to someone. Its whispers and dreams were haunting and intriguing at the same time; it sincerely wanted company.

"_Mu_," the river breathed to her as it rose above the rocks and splashed downstream. She was Mu to the River, not Alisa or Lisa. She peered up at the sky, hugging darkness and spotting lavender speckles in the heavens' curtain. Beneath her feet, the green grass danced with the River and carried her weightless body to its destination.

Nestled in a comfortable crossing by the water, a beautiful luscious sage tree welcomed her. The River died down quickly and the Tree yearned for her soft touch. When her hand touched the Wood, she felt as far away from pain as she could possibly be. No screams, no bullets, no blood, and most importantly, no betrayal. This was Mu. She was Mu, the Tree and the Strength.

A beam of light was glittering across the River and the water pivoted itself in a shapeless form. Its droplets evaporated before they hit the ground and the form slowly churned in its place.

Below her feet, The River crawled and the Wind stopped around the Tree. The spinning River-form stared at the Tree for boundless moments.

"I can never see you, can I?" It wasn't Lisa's voice spilling from her mouth, but Mu's. The Tree spoke for her.

The River-form's spoken words were not clear but muffled, almost like being underwater, but they were understandable. "I listened to your cries; you held on with a strong grip. Huo will save you."

"Huo?" Lisa's body suddenly gained some of its gravity back.

"Your flame will save you."

The Tree wouldn't let Lisa walk away and her mind was loud again. "Where am I? Who are you?"

Intensely wheeling now, the River-form continued, "This is our home. I am Shui, the Water."

Lisa's eyes drooped and she lost her balance. Instead of bouncing off of the tree, she leaned into it and it warmly embraced her. "Shui .. you are Mei."

Behind the Water wall and dressed in a gown created from the Black Curtain, Mei wore a cordial smile and waited a few moments before responding. "Yes. There, I am Mei. The Tree will take you back. Once you meet the Tu, bring him here."

Lisa's voice slipped away as the Tree began to absorb her, "Who?"

"Tu. The Earth."

The Dream swallowed Lisa, allowing her to leak back into her material body. The first things she felt were her shoulder being wildly shaken and an inflating balloon inside her head.

"Lisa, wake up!"

Who was that calling her name? It sounded familiar and urgent. Lisa had strength in her physique again, and her sensitive hearing picked up her silver bracelets jingling. Was there any pain in her leg? Like clockwork, the leg immediately stung but it wasn't throbbing much anymore. She had regained her ability to move again.

The helpful voice belonged to a mellow Emyrs, her copper stare drilling into Lisa's face. Emyrs had bent down, ready to help Lisa to her feet. Lisa obliged, but the tingle in her leg had migrated to her head, causing her to blink uncontrollably.

"Back down, pretty lady," Emyrs mumbled and helped Lisa onto the concrete. "I had to shoot that barge three times."

When the noise in her skull finally dulled, Lisa could see the RhinoMan's quiet build slumped on the ground, leaning against a nearby dumpster. Thick blood splatters painted his shoulders and one round had pierced his right knee . The air became colder and heavier on her body again.

Emyrs' teeth were chattering. "He's a-alive. Let's get you to safety."

"Leave me." Lisa ripped off her heavy tan coat and handed it to her savior. "You're in nothing but a shirt and pants. Take this and get out of here."

Emyrs hesitated to accept the coat, but Lisa shoved it at her.

"Thank you," Lisa smiled and turned away quickly enough to vomit on the ground. It was instantaneous: the migraine, the blood's whistle, her jewelry jingling, and her diaphragm arching were all rapidly thrashing inside her mind and body.

A mumble and stir shuttered from the dumpster, and Emyrs whipped out the gun to face the RhinoMan. He was disoriented and blabbering, and she was ready for another round but she soon found herself halfway across the alleyway and pinned against the chain link fence; she barely heard the gun hitting the ground. Musty, fiery breath crawled around her cheeks and down her neck; her hands were viciously locked behind her and a knee was jabbing her lower back.

"UMEKO!" Lisa screamed at the top of her lungs; it was so loud it penetrated Emyrs' ears despite a muzzle growling in one of them. Lisa couldn't stand up and screamed her partner's name until her throat was raw.

Umeko hawked a string of Japanese phrases, ramming her knee into Emyrs' side three times then turning Emyrs around to deliver a solid blow to the front. An uncontrollable inferno spun in Umeko's pupils; there wasn't anybody or anything that could stop the savage beast.

The same toxin that swam in baby Josh's veins now swam in the elder turtle; Emyrs couldn't feel much pain. When she didn't cry or scream in agony, it enraged the WildKat. She ruthlessly rattled and pounded the turtle against the fence, shrieking her frustration and slipping further into her madness.

Soon Emyrs couldn't breathe from the shock and trauma. She didn't have the strength to fight back anymore. She heard Lisa's wails and wondered if the insanity would ever end. Would Umeko just tear her body to shreds? Emyrs would just watch herself get beaten to death?

Baby Josh still survived against all odds in his tiny toddler body. His rare disease was trying to kill him but for an adult, it fueled strength and longevity. Emyrs was thankful that his bite had been just the right dose to clear the voices out of her head, especially Mei's; the Witch had consumed her mind and strung her along like a little puppet for too long. Medication lifted the cloud, but whatever Josh had in his body brought her mind back to its original state, like nothing was buzzing in it now. She was starting to feel the best she had ever felt, mentally, in twenty five years.

However, the contamination's downside was what was currently happening in the alleyway: numbness and detachment. _What an insane holiday_, she chuckled to herself as Umeko kicked and stomped her legs. _I had always wanted to get my ass smeared across an alleyway for Christmas. Check that off my bucket list!_

"What the fuck is going on here?" a male voice bellowed through the damp air.

Drenched in tears, Lisa turned to see the entrance full of gawkers and pedestrians. She was trembling and turned her attention back to Umeko, who had stopped beating on Emyrs.

A sturdy, older man dressed in a business suit stepped forward, "Break this up or we'll call animal control! Take your beatings somewhere else! It's goddamn Christmas!"

Lisa dreaded to see what would happen next, but she was stunned to find that Umeko obeyed the human. Lisa's nerves fluttered again when Umeko picked up Emyrs off the ground.

Emyrs choked back blood and silently summoned_, The final blow, huh? Knock me out like I'm the last person you'll ever fight, Woman._

Lurching back, Umeko popped her knuckles square into her defeated opponent's face; it was lights out for Emyrs Becker. Her body slumped in Umeko's grasp before the WildKat tossed Emyrs into the pile of icy trash bags on the ground. She found Emyrs' gun and tossed it on the heap as well.

The pedestrians shuffled away as Umeko stomped back up the alley and leaned over Lisa, who was distraught as she stared at Emyrs' stiff body behind the dumpster. Lisa sobbed as Umeko threw her over the shoulder, barged through the dispersing crowd, and walked onto the street.

* * *

"Another snowstorm is coming in two days," Donatello mentioned while listening to the radio; he clicked it off and momentarily glanced at Abigail in the passenger's seat. "Which makes our search ten times harder."

Abby adjusted her seat belt and watched the city of New York pass by her window. For just a moment, she imagined the familiar and comforting streets of Bergedorf; when the daydream ended, she still saw America and it gave her a sinking feeling.

Don concentrated on the road. "Streets are a little slippery; I keep forgetting." He came to a full stop behind a moderate line of taxis and cars. "I know why I don't like driving now. People have their thumbs up their butts around here."

Abby politely scoffed and shook her head.

"We had a vehicle once called the BattleShell. I had that thing on turbo drive and it was built like a tank. We didn't drive on the main road; we created new roads!"

She scrunched up her face. "Battleshell? What happened to it then?"

"We were superheroes, okay?" snipped Don and he adjusted the rear view mirror. It almost came off its hinges but he whacked it back into place. "We needed a cool tank. Only reason I don't have it now is because when mutants/non-humans became citizens, we were charged back taxes and rent on the sewer. I had to sell it to pay the bills off."

Abby wouldn't have snickered at the story, but he was grinning and sipped on his cup of coffee. "Do you ever want to go back to the way it was, Donatello?"

He coughed and fumbled through the trash around his feet, "A lot. Yeah. Sometimes."

She waited for his real answer.

"Yes, all the time," he sighed and honked the horn at the traffic. "Come on, folks. Get off the phones and drive!"

Magically, the traffic moved again, the rest of the ride dropped into silence. He scrambled to find a parking spot at the hospital that wasn't a million miles away from the building.

"Don, I can't get this door open," Abby grunted as she tried pushing on her door.

"Wait, wait," he alerted and ran to the other side of the dented green van, "The electrics get cold and it wants to lock up. Let me try unlocking it out here."

He fussed around with the key and door but after numerous attempts, he slapped the van and dashed back to the driver's side. "Get out through this door. I'm sorry it's a pain. I have a couple of more hospital bills to pay for Mike before I can get a new car."

"It's quite okay," she smiled and scooted out of the vehicle. She bundled herself up and waited for Don to join her; he seemed busy checking over the van and making sure each door was tightly locked. She watched him rotate his winter hat and blow on his hands, rubbing them together.

"You stare a lot, kid," he kindly remarked and saw that her cheeks turned a deeper shade of green. "I feel like I'm being watched all the time."

She looked towards the hospital and nodded, "Mother gets on to me about that, too. I don't do it out of rudeness. Sorry."

Wind nipped at their faces during the rest of the silent journey that led them through revolving doors, elevators, and a quick stop to the bathroom. Abby waited for Don and wondered if he was using his ninja techniques to avoid sitting on the toilet since it was taking him a while to finish. The toilet's flushing report was a welcome for her thinning patience; he whisked out of the bathroom like a wide eyed cat and almost forgot about Abby while he trumped down the hallway.

Abby realized Don passed by a waiting room, and she swiftly peered inside it. All of the visitors were humans and all of them were giving her extremely odd looks.

"Abigail!" Don hissed from a few feet down. "You can't wait in there! Get out!"

She nearly backed into the doorway, watching the angry eyes following her out of the room. Before catching up with Don, she finally saw the sign, 'Visitors Room: Humans Only' on the window. She stared at it for so long that she bumped into Don.

"You HAVE to watch yourself around here, little lady." He glared at her for a few moments, sighed, and continued walking. She sulked and gave one last look at the sign before following him to their assigned waiting area. When they arrived, she wasn't impressed with the room; it resembled a closet and barely had space for any comfortable seating; the hospital squeezed in a phone, a television in the upper corner with bad reception, and a faded lopsided magazine rack for good measure. Don seem to make himself at home in a small bucket seat; Abby squeezed passed him and plunked down, grunting and almost smashing her fingers between the seat and the wall.

She fiddled with her gloves and removed her hat, hoping he would inform her that Leonardo would be there soon or if they were going to wait in the small closet all day. Abby didn't want to stare at him but there wasn't much to look at in the room.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the main hallway, sounding like a male's steps_._ Abby hoped it would be Leonardo. Her expectations fell, however, once she noticed Don's static position_._ A few moments later, a hefty wolf-like 'Non' tried to ease into the tiny room.

"Excuse me," his deep voice rumbled and when he sat down he took up three of the seats which pretty much filled up Don's side. "Cold Christmas day, isn't it?"

"Yes," Abby responded immediately; Don gave her a 'don't encourage the oaf' stare, but she was tired of his apathy and restlessness and desired some interaction with other beings.

Wolfie shook his enormous black leather jacket, making some of the powder bounce off Don's arm; he sniffed and pleasantly chatted, "I almost couldn't get my business van out of the ditch from last night. I've kinda had a rough week."

Don rolled his eyes and dreaded where the conversation was going. He squirmed in his spot, burrowing into his dark brown coat, and prepared to orbit into dreamland. Wolfie's bass tone and Abby's high pitch blended together as Don drifted out of awareness. There was a short moment when things went really quiet and he jerked awake, but the television's bubbling static and the room's dead air hurled him back into slumber.

The dreamworld spilled out of his collective consciousness and into the mist of his own breath. The ebony sky with lavender speckles was the second thing he saw, followed by massive rings in the sky. Rings compiled of rock, ice, and dust were dancing among the abnormally beautiful curtain. He heard trickling noises and saw a melded beige-orange river seeping and winding down a narrow hill. Upon closer inspection and following the water, there were actually two separate streams instead of one and both were synced in rhythm and flow: the perfect harmony.

Judging from the vapors coming out of his nostrils and striking the air, it was a chilly environment but he couldn't feel the cold on his body. Donatello never remembered having a dream this vivid; was he dream walking or was his spirit soaring elsewhere? With each step he took, any and all Earthly doubts in his mind crumbled away and his youthful exuberance surfaced upon his troubled face. Time had made his emotions tick backwards; he was forgetting what it felt like to feel pain.

The river glowed as he scurried downhill. The rings in the sky appeared to sing answers and theories in his ears and he had his dreams back again. The dreams that created his being and balanced with his unique inception.

This world was wise and perfectly free.

Don eased his prints on the grass as soon as he reached a withering, dreary tree. It was out of place in such gorgeous terrain, he knew, but it was dying; it was forgetting its memories. The tree called to Don in his heart, and he touched its weeping bark.

"I miss you," his voice teared as his doubts and shaking fear returned. "I know who you represent, Wise Wood. You are the very reason I want to go on my epoch. I want to cure you. No more suffering, no more forgetting."

The dream was slipping away; his body was feeling heavy again. Before Don left, he patted the tree and promised, "I'll save you. Just hold on."

The old tree burst into crystals and scattered into the sky rings.

"I love you."

His voice felt far from his lips; he was falling back into Sleep.

"My father, don't forget me."

* * *

Abigail watched a tear slip from Don's closed eye and she tried to gently wake him. "Herr Donatello, please wake up." She looked to her sensei, Leonardo, standing in the doorway. He had just arrived and he looked highly discontent. "Herr Donatello, your Sensei is here – I mean, your brother is here."

Leonardo reached over and patted Don on the face several times, "Donny, wake up. I got some updates."

Sluggishly opening his moist eyes, Don unraveled himself and rubbed his face. He was still in the closet waiting area next to a huge Wolf Non and a twelve year old girl who was currently peering into his face with curiosity. "Yeah. Hi. Sorry. What's the latest, Leo?"

Leo nodded at Abby's seat wanting her to get out of Don's face and sit down, and he squeezed passed his grumpy brother, sitting between Don and the Wolfie. "They're working on reattaching his severed fingers, and it'll take a good amount of time to do that. He'll pull through; I know he will."

"Have you called April?" Don lowly asked and looked around the room to see if there was any sign of something to drink.

From the tenebrous look on Leo's face, Don nodded in agreement and swallowed. His throat was unnaturally dry and it made him want to hunt down some kind of liquid. He excused himself and shuffled out of the area.

Wolfie was staring up at the television that seemed to be working. "Will we finally get an equal rights bill going through the government?"

"They're pushing for it," Leo casually commented and leaned his elbows on his knees. "But I'm afraid we'll see a lot more blood and tears before it's signed."

Abby noticed something odd about Wolfie—she felt bad for calling him just 'wolfie' when she was sure he had a name. She thought she saw a blood stain on his shirt under his jacket but didn't want to be rude. Her sensei was sitting a short distance away and might glare her to death.

Wolfie pulled his eyes from the box once the broadcast started fizzling again, "I'll shed as much blood as possible. I want to be with my partner and I want to live a normal life with her."

Leo nodded in Wolfie's direction, almost saluting the Non's ambition to keep fighting. The room fell uncomfortably silent and Abby needed to do something to pass the time. She walked to the rack and grabbed a random magazine without looking at it. She sat back down and crossed her legs, like her mother always did; it made her feel closer to her mother's spirit that way.

She phased over the magazine's cover and turned to a random page. Sensei's eyes were watching her; she could feel them glazing over her head.

"My student, are you interested in men's health and fitness or are you looking at the pretty muscles in there?"

His voice could stop an avalanche. She hadn't been able to study the magazine she picked up and finally realized what he was joking about. Yeah, she felt awkward upon her revelation.

"Well, it can't hurt to look at men's fitness_._ I might learn something new, right? You always tell me to learn everyday," she tried to save herself, but Sensei was at the bat. Her cheeks were flushed; she wanted to hide behind the magazine from both males in the room.

Leo grinned, "That's the same thing I used to say when Splinter caught me looking at something odd or questionable."

Abby stopped for a moment to daydream of her teenage Sensei looking at girly magazines under the blankets. It made her blush more_._ When she came back to reality, she had to look him in the face which made her predicament worse. The only thing she knew to do was put the magazine back on the rack, complain that it was outdated and the men in it were probably ancient by now, and use her flexibility to ninja her way out of the room.

* * *

Mei watched the Tree's crystals whistle back to the sky and flutter into oblivion. She was very curious about the new visitor; she had watched him come down the hill and talk to the dying tree. He never saw her sitting across the stream, bathing herself in his curiosity and revelation.

It was a very intriguing turn of events, she proclaimed.


	40. Chapter 36 :: Steel

_Synopsis: Both Lisa and Donatello visited their respective dreamworlds, each discovering an inner secret or three. _

_Umeko believed Emyrs was trying to hurt Lisa, and in turn, gave Emyrs a brutal smackdown in the alley, leaving Em's body out in the cold._

_Leonardo, Donatello, and Abigail go to the hospital, awaiting news on Casey's surgery. Abigail gets another taste of the segregation her kind must face._

* * *

Beta Reader: TheMutantRebel - always a dear. 3

* * *

She watched the two brothers huddle around a lukewarm coffee pot and discuss private matters. It had to be private if their whispers moved as fast as their bodies would in a fight. She turned away and tucked one of her hands deeply into her coat pocket; something felt uneven and jingled around in there.

Abigail took out a silver bracelet and twiddled it in her hands. She hadn't been too concerned with finding its owner, but as the glitter reflected the dull hospital lights, a craving for ice cream hit her. And then a peculiar flashback suddenly flooded into her mind: the glimmer pulsing from Lisa's wrist at the ice cream shop on Mother's birthday.

"_How pretty! Your jewelry. Do you own a lot?" Abby was enamored; she could only dream of being that feminine._

"_I do. I can't go anywhere without them!"_

The tween had already been suspicious of Lisa, but she needed more proof than just a piece of jewelry. Maybe she could ask Sensei to help her visit Lisa at her job. It was worth the longest shot in the world and it would be one step closer to finding and helping Mother.

Don sipped from his plastic cup, looking groggy and was probably not listening to a nattering Leo. From the look on Leo's face, Abby thought it would be wise to not interrupt the conversation and that it would be best if she just went back to the waiting room. At least there she could avoid confrontation with her visibly terse teacher.

Leo stared at the bulletin board full of old announcements and community meetings. None of which he had any interest in but it held his concentration better than a dazed Donatello.

"We need to find Mikey." Leo leaned on the counter with both of his hands, tapping his fingers in growing frustration. "Are you coming with me?"

Don stared into his cup trying to find his answer; he could almost drown in the liquid.

"Are you coming with me, Donatello?" Leo's tone was as sharp as the cold outside.

He saw Splinter's face in his field of vision and smiled sadly. "It's Mike now."

"He'll always be Mikey to me. Fuck that Mike nonsense." Leo tossed his glance in the waiting room's direction.

Even through his sleepy stupor, Don pushed himself to more alertness after hearing a curse word drop from Leo's mouth. If Don didn't want to face Leo's wrath in public, he'd better shake off his problem. And fast. "We'll find Mikey but we'd better get a move on before the snowstorm hinders our search."

"Can you locate Mikey?"

Don coughed. "Not if he doesn't have his cell phone."

"I thought you had trackers on all of us?"

What's the point anymore?" Don frowned and dug his hands deep into his trouser pockets, avoiding Leo's harsh stare. "We haven't had any trouble in years and we've all been responsible adults."

"We're still a family. We need to keep an eye on each other!" His raised voice rubbed Don the wrong way. Humans and Nons were starting to givethem perplexing looks.

"I'm not putting a leash on us like we're dogs, Leo."

Leo shook his head in disagreement and mumbled more to himself, "We weren't cautious enough. Too lax. Too used to this unforgiving society."

"Should we pack up and move elsewhere? Live in secrecy again? Fight crime and have only each other to look at everyday?" Don snapped, patting his right foot in place. "Everything changes. We can't stand still while the world keeps moving."

The conversation dropped like an anvil_. _Don watched his brother pull away from the counter; Leo's eyes were storming. "I'm going to call April and Raph now. I'll talk with you later."

Left with his own thoughts and crummy demeanor, Don could almost curl up in a corner and sleep the century away but his mind still buzzed from the dream. Everything, from colors to sounds, remained listless to his senses; the tepid coffee was, ironically, the freshest impact to his mildly shaky lips and the only comfort in a place full of ache.

* * *

A petite pink-gloved hand offered a cup of java to the Wolfie, still waiting patiently in the minuscule non-human visitors room. His eyes were weary but he smiled at his little friend.

"It's the better coffee," Abby confessed and retained her old spot in the room. "I wouldn't let my cat drink the other stuff they have for us."

"You didn't get in trouble, did ya, young lady?" Wolfie cautiously asked before sipping from the cup.

She shrugged, grinning through her answer, "It wouldn't be the first time."

His giant hands cupped the small container. "You don't seem the rebel type."

"I'm not, but I do what I feel is necessary. I want you to feel better. I like you."

Underneath his gray and white fur, he burned red and was thankful the young one couldn't see it, "T-thanks. I'm flattered."

She nodded quickly and returned to her abandoned men's fitness magazine. Wolfie thought back to the earlier discussion between her and the turtle Non. "Was that your father?"

Abby froze. "Who?"

"The turtle man that was in here. He teased you about the magazine you're holding."

She slammed the magazine shut, her eyes darted around the room. "He's – he's my teacher. Is he coming? Do you see him?"

A boisterous laughter exploded from Wolfie's mouth; and he almost ran out of breath. Abby was embarrassed and nervous, arching around the doorway to keep an eye out for her meddlesome teachers. She was sure that Wolfie's laughter would send Leonardo buzzing into the room and disciplining Abby for disturbing the peace and the sick.

"Herr Wolf, please!"

He almost couldn't breathe again, "The name is Vanderman; Vander for short." He rubbed his hand against his chest to straighten his clothes, still having a chuckle at Abby's expense.

"I'm Abigail. Call me Abby if you want."

Vander took a big chug from his drink, almost emptying it. "Your accent reveals a lot about you. I've been to Germany before."

"Really? When?"

"Three years ago with my family on vacation."

Relaxing at last, Abby gave her full attention to the wolf, "I live in Bergedorf."

"That's not far from Hamburg, is it?"

"Yes. Did you go to Hamburg?"

Vander set his cup on the seat to his right, sat back, and crossed his arms in thought, "I think we did. My wife did all of the preparations and touring. She's smart with stuff like that."

She didn't want to ruin the happy memories with a possible sad one but it slipped off her tongue before she could catch it. "Is your wife here? In the hospital?"

"Yes."

Her heart sank but was surprised when he continued, even smiling, "She wanted to go south, like to Mexico and South America. It was warmer there and she wanted to see the tombs." He paused and noticed Abby's wide-eyed stare. "The tombs. With mummies and dead things."

Abby assented, blinking fiercely. "Yes, yes. It just creeped me out, sorry."

"It does to me too, but it sounded like a fun adventure. Too bad we never made it to airport on time, but we're never on time for anything." He gave a tired chuckle and uncrossed his arms; she sighed at the thought of airports and flying back over the Atlantic to go home. Home sweet home. Away from the uncertainty.

The tv droned and crackled while two more Non-humans joined the waiting area, muttering holiday greetings and looking as tired as Vander. Abby stayed in her little corner and watched the floor and walls like she was guarding them. When that got boring, her hazel eyes floated over Vander and curiously studied more about him: a vigorous, brute-like canine fanned under waves of gray and white fur; he held a lot of intelligence and soul in his sharp black eyes, and instead of intimidating others with his massive form, he was truly a gentle giant. His black leather jacket and pants didn't look particularly old and shabby but more of a conservative feel; Vander's colossal black boots could stomp on the Empire State building, she chuckled. Maybe he could carry her across the ocean using the bodies of whales as stepping ground.

"Something funny?" he gently brought her out of the daydream; she flushed at her ability to stare impolitely: a sore habit that usually got her in trouble with her mother.

"Yeah, thinking about my mother," she lied a little but quickly tried to come up with something. "All of her silly antics."

Vander scoffed, "My wife is a funny bunny too; she talks in her sleep and sometimes puts the tv remote in the cabinets."

"That's cute," Abby giggled. "Mother wakes up after falling asleep and does funny things like lining the phone up to the wall and rearranging her spice rack. It's always something random. She never remembers doing them."

"Where is your mother? I would like to meet her."

The two new visitors looked up from reading their magazines, and she suddenly felt violated. "Um, not here. At home." She went back to watching the wall.

Realizing how uncomfortable Abby became after the answer, Vander cleared his throat and nodded at the visitors; he stood up, stretched, and made his way to the door. When he stretched, he could almost touch both walls. "I'm going for a walk. Wanna come, Abby?"

She jumped up and tossed the magazine, ironically, in Leo's old seat. "Fresh air would be nice. Thanks."

* * *

"_The customer you are trying to reach is not available_," the droning female voice repeated for the second time. "_Inbox is full._ _Please try again later._"

It's like Raphael to not empty his voice-mail box, Leo fussed in his head and dropped the call. No texts were being answered and if the hot head's phone was shut off, he wouldn't get them anyways. What a bad time to avoid the family, and Leo made a vow to kick his brother's disappearing ass into next spring.

He tried calling two more times and got the same response. It was a pained distraction from dialing the next number; his fingers edged away from the sand-colored phone multiple times and gripped the counter.

"Excuse me, may I use the phone?" an elder fox Non politely asked_._ He nodded to her and stepped out of the way. While she tinkered with the device, he mentally worked up the courage to face April, pushing back his failure to protect his family and to, essentially, be in every place at any time. He had to remember that he wasn't omnipotent, nowhere near it, but the feeling continued to echo in his dreams and daily life. It wouldn't fade away, no matter how hard he trained at home or worked at the steel mill. The pay was good enough to provide for the family, even for Raphael's blustery carcass. His glass veil chills against the mill's crackling burning furnaces at the tick of every minute hand and then Leonardo walks home in the sun's shadow. Every day. The same beaten path.

"Thank you, dear," the plump fox gushed and stepped away from the phone. He acknowledged her as she left, scooting down the hallway. The sigh that escaped his chest felt like trickling razor blades and before the next nurse could stroll by, he was dialing the digits and hearing the ring on the other end.

Her soft voice made him twitch in his step, and for a prompt second she was a stranger to him.

"Leo?"

Merry Christmas, April, he told her, and there was Shadow chattering in the background while April wore a friendly smile. He was sure it was a smile just from the way she chatted.

"We miss you, Uncle Leo!"

He missed them as much as his heart could hold; every second, it was getting harder to pour the news. April deserved better than what they could offer to her; she deserved a family that was normal and didn't try to get themselves lost or killed.

She didn't miss a beat and her smile was slowly disappearing, "Leo? What's wrong?"

Their first Christmas together, he quickly remembered as he relayed Casey's current status to her, was special and one that had touched his soul. April didn't have a lot of money but wanted to do something for her new green friends. The aroma of warm holiday cookies permeated the lair and they were each given ornaments, designed specifically for each new friend. Leo recalled two katanas and the sun with his name painted on the ball; he still had it in his room and hung it up on the tree every year. The frizzy haired twenty-something year old wanted to snap photos of the four teens in front of the Christmas tree and vowed to take a picture every year, in the same spot, until they all died. Mikey asked what would happen if April died and she said for us to pass the camera around and snap the photo. It had been an annoying tradition at first, but as he grew older he learned to appreciate her intentions. He remembered that a picture needed to be taken for that year.

But Leonardo had to stop thinking about memory lane and, instead, listened to her heart-breaking sobs. He wanted to go back to thinking about taking that dumb Christmas picture.

"He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay," she repeated and caught her breath, "right, Leo? Right?"

His own words didn't comfort himself, but they _reassured_ her at least. He had a certain way of spinning his vocabulary into a silky web, doing it so well that, on a few occasions, he would get tangled. He wasn't lying to her, but maybe there was more hope in his web than what was actually available.

When her tears died down, he said just above a whisper, "I love you, April. Stop thinking about death. He won't die on Christmas or any day, without you by his side."

"You.. will be there?"

"Yes."

"Don't go killing anyone."

He felt his lower jaw lock up. "I can't promise that."

"Not now. Not now, please?"

He couldn't answer back. There was a bit of static fizzling in the background.

"If I stop crying, will you stay by my side?"

It was time to end the call when a human nurse harshly signaled at him. "I have to go, April. See you soon. Be safe."

Leonardo didn't know what suddenly nipped at his patience but he barely heard April say her goodbyes as the phone was gently placed back on its receiver. He felt the nurse's glare drilling into his back but the hallway seemed to clear a path for him as he marched towards the first available elevator.

* * *

Lisa's spotless kitchen was no longer tidy; the entire house was now a disaster. Her screams pierced Umeko's sensitive, woolly ears as Umeko checked on Michelangelo in Lisa's bedroom.

The radio crashed to the floor. "You fucking bitch! How could you! How COULD you! She did nothing to you! NOTHING!" Lisa furiously shook, stumbling around the apartment and destroying objects in her wake. She no longer had the important coffee pot.

Umeko threw a blanket over Mike's comatose body and pulled it up to his neck. She remained quiet and stood beside the bed.

Lisa continued her tirade, losing her voice by the minute and sobbing, "She was helping me, and you beat her like she was nothing. Can't you learn to control that temper?" The last of her strength fizzled from the top of her head, causing her to slump into the kitchen chair; she briefly wondered how she was going to clean the mess. "Don't die.. please don't die."

Umeko's shoes clopped in soft, firm patterns to the kitchen, glowering down at Lisa awaiting the next harsh statement.

"Get out. Go." Lisa choked on her words and wiped her soggy face. "I said get the fuck out_, _WildKat."

"But your leg, Alissa, it's -"

The table nearly fell apart from the force of Lisa's fist. Umeko breathed through her nose and slipped into the apartment's darkness. Tears continued to dribble down Lisa's cheeks and after a few strong surges of wails, she hobbled to the bathroom and nursed her wound.

The water burned against her cheeks and she got irritated by her bracelets. They were tossed into the trash in a frenzy. The tap ran for ages as she peered into the mirror and saw a monster looking back at her, even though her eyes cried something different.

"I'm a mess." Her throat was completely raw and stiff. When the mirror's image disgusted her enough, she grabbed the first aid kit and began to work on her sore leg. There were small fits of gasps and yelps as she manhandled her leg through the temper still boiling in her blood.

She almost didn't hear the stir coming from her bed over her own grumpy disposition. It was Mike. He was waking up; Lisa dashed through her procedure in order to be the first person he saw. She needed to clear her conscience.

* * *

Massive rings in the sky. The river in two separate streams flowing down the hill. The feeling of universal intelligence wheeling in his head. The withering, dying tree that reminded him of Splinter. Donatello could feel the dream's visions slipping from his grasp. He shut his eyes tight and hummed one of his favorite songs.

He saw April, wearing her stylish black dress and asking him which earrings she should choose. She was just mouthing the words but he knew what she was asking. He always knew. She was the closest friend he had and the one who understood his passion and desire. He had been avoiding her for a while to give her time to adjust to a baby, but he missed her pre-baby days when she asked about earrings and the latest "Tello" project. Whenever he tried to call her, he got the same responses: too busy, in the middle of something, with family, at work, or call you back later. He finally stopped the calls. Stopped his meddling. If he was important, she would make time for him.

She seemed to talk to everyone else but him, and it quietly broke his heart.

"Don?"

He could hear her considerate voice break through his slumber. The way she said his name was like she would never see him again. He couldn't do that. He would never leave his best friend.

The black dress, the sparkling earrings, and her smile fizzled away in the crepuscule, and when his eyes lifted, April didn't look like the same friend from his memory.

Don captured a bit of air through his nose and mouth and shuffled in his seat. He had returned to the visitors area after the tiff with Leonardo. "Hi. How are you?" It was a stupid question, especially from the puffiness of her face and the lack of the natural bounce to her hair.

"I think I got most of it out on the way here." She jammed in a seat next to him and wiped her face, "I'm sorry if I can't keep my composure."

"I'm not judging you."

A small smile broke through her worried expression, "You're a good person like that."

He didn't know how to respond and looked up at the television, which was working again. Barely.

"When can I see him, Don?" The way she said his name… it was like she was talking to a stranger on the street. How did it change so suddenly?

"He's still in surgery. I don't know how much longer it will be."

"Where's Leo?" His name was spoken with a tub of concern, unlike Don's; it shredded a little more of his tired nerves.

"Somewhere around here."

"You know," her tone flashed back to him being a stranger, "you're acting a little weird. In fact, you have been acting weird for the longest. No phone calls and barely any visits and -"

"Busy. I stay busy, April. Sorry."

"Too busy for your best friend?"

The heat rose up his throat and settled on his tongue. He couldn't argue with her now; it was the worst possible time and place. Whenever he got agitated, Don would rub his temples and forehead. The headache bloated in his skull and the rubbing helped to alleviate the pressure.

She didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Only his silence. "You and Leo are acting so weird. I don't need this today. Where are my brothers? My friends?"

"Hello, miss," a middle-aged, plumped nurse stopped by the door and peered down at April. "You don't have to wait in here. We have a comfortable seating area just down the hall for Humans."

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"Are you sure, sweetie? We'll be able to get you the quickest updates there too."

"As opposed to not giving it to us here?" It was too late; the heat escaped from Don's mouth. "It's on your way down here or do you climb out the window, down the side of the building, through the front doors, up the elevators, and go to the Human waiting area to give them the news FIRST?"

"Don -" April reached for him, but he was already out of his seat and facing the nurse at the door.

"I'll call security and have you escorted out of here. You don't talk to me like that, young Non!" The nurse had backed out of the door and had raised her voice so that it would echo down the hallway and draw attention. "You and that other Turtle have been stomping and causing scenes in our hospital. We won't have that here!"

The back of his mind whispered that the Nurse wasn't worth the trouble, but his heart was weary and the nurse's dramatic words knocked him hard. "I just want to get some fresh air, lady. Stop acting like I'm a thug." The weary heart found energy again to thump wildly in his chest, and he turned to April in a moment's beat, "We would never abandon you in your time of need. I'll be back shortly."

His elbow gently brushed passed the Nurse; it was enough for her to secretly call for security. Without giving them a shred of his attention, Don already had plans to get back inside and be with the person who undoubtedly needed him most.


	41. Chapter 37 :: A Better Butterfly

_Synopsis: Leonardo is becoming more unraveled underneath his glass veil; his discussion with Donatello over regrouping and fighting Casey's attacker resulted in Donatello being too apathetic for Leonardo's tastes._

_Abby and the wolf-Non human, Vanderman, are enjoying a new-found friendship with the other._

_A traumatized Lisa kicks Umeko out of the apartment for mishandling the situation in the alleyway._

_And Donatello faces April at the hospital and consoles her as best as he can, swallowing back his bruised feelings over their withered friendship._

* * *

She always sat in the same place at the dinner table with her coffee mug positioned near her left hand and a book or her laptop on the right. The tablecloth was never the same; today, it was solid white and looked brand new. She couldn't remember ever buying it.

Speckles of morning light gleamed through her kitchen window and created a homely glow in the room. The environment was so hushed. No appliances humming or television or radio interrupting the peacefulness. How strange, she thought. Usually some kind of activity was thumping through their quaint little German home.

She decided to make the best of the quiet time and read a few pages in her book, but when it was thumbed open, the pages were blank. One quick look away and then back again to the book, there were pictures. Pictures of her childhood and young adulthood littered the booklet, and she had forgotten all about those memories. They flooded her conscience and in the meantime, her coffee was getting cold.

Her chair slid back from the table with a small squeal, and as she poured her coffee down the drain, it was an orange color. Did she mistakenly grab the orange juice and put it into her mug? The mug was always used for coffee, she pondered, but it wasn't really a big deal in the long run. It was washed and placed aside. She turned back to the table and a knock tapped on her front door.

Just a few steps later, the door opened and a familiar face gently smiled at her. The smile that always made her feel warm.

"Kuma, hallo!"

He bowed, and they were seated at the table in an instant. His black yukata with silver linings accented his eyes in the morning stream. She was dressed in her finest white tshirt and blue pajama bottoms. Contrasting difference, she chirped.

"What brings you to my side of the world?" she grinned and tiptoed through the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Emyrs," he began softly. "Do you know where you are?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Home. My home. I've been having the strangest dreams where I'm in America again. I haven't been there in ages. Tea?"

"No, thank you. Please sit down." He gestured to her chair.

"Does my seat look that worn?" Emyrs laughed and wiped her hands on a towel. "Are you sure you're not thirsty? Your journey must have been a long one."

"Emyrs," Splinter meticulously repeated with his eyes flashing, "Take your seat and we will discuss everything."

Her heart thumped in her stomach, and she had her head in the fridge ready to grab a bowl of fruit but dismissed it and her odd feeling. She stood up and looked at her blue fridge, swearing that her mother had originally bought a yellow one. "How are your sons? Michelangelo must be feeling better now." She sat down in her seat. The tablecloth was still white. When _did_ she buy that white tablecloth?

"He is still missing."

Emyrs shook her head, "How long now?"

"Leonardo is looking for the kidnappers, Donatello is fighting himself, and Raphael-"

"How is that blockhead?" she thoughtfully quipped and crossed her arms, leaning back against the chair. "I bet he's hooked up with Lisa now. Working on a second child and wishing he could drink a beer with the poker boys again."

Splinter interrupted his frown with a hearty chuckle, "The children part is correct but not in the way you think."

"I'm sorry to hear about your sons. Why aren't you with them in their time of need?"

The elder rat's whiskers twitched and his eyes went soft again. "We cannot always be there for our children when they need us. My body is slowly fading away."

"You're always saying that," she tapped his hand. "You could run circles around them!"

"If only I could again," his voice barely audible but increased when she glanced back at him, "but I cannot. I do the best I can. They will understand."

"Do you hear that?" Her face curiously scrunched. His ears perked, and she jumped from her seat and quietly tapped to a nearby closed door. "Someone is in the shower, but Abigail isn't home."

"That is your mate."

Emyrs was leaning her ear against the door but edged away from it like it suddenly had a disease. "What? I didn't let anybody in here! I should call the police."

"My friend, we are not in the real world. This is your dream. This is you and everything about you."

She heard the shower knobs squeak as the water stopped running. With her quiet morning suddenly turning chaotic, Emyrs pointed to the door and tried to make sense of what was happening. "I don't recall meeting anyone and bringing them home. Is this the future then, Kuma?"

Splinter was organizing chess pieces on the table. He must have brought the set with him, she mused, because she didn't remember seeing it on his person. Everything was so real to her that she couldn't get the weirdness out of her mind. It was all a dream. Somehow. But how could she smell her kitchen or clearly hear the water run or the baby crying from her bedroom?

A baby crying from her bedroom. Yes. That was a baby.

"Tell me that's not.." she whispered and pointed in the bedroom's direction. Splinter nodded without looking up at her.

"Yours. She is hungry."

"I didn't have a child, Kuma. I would remember something like that."

"You didn't remember when -" he started speaking gibberish and she cocked her upper lip amidst the confusion. Splinter finished, "I would like a banana after all, please."

"Kuma," she laughed and walked around the table back to her seat, "Are you having a stroke? I didn't get a word that you said!"

"Because you haven't unlocked that part of your memory yet. I'm trying to help jog it for you," he patiently instructed and finished setting up the board pieces. "I am asking you to take a seat. My final request."

Her hazel eyes darted back to the bathroom, expecting the door to magically fly open. "Uh, isn't Mister Soulmate ready to reveal himself? I'd hate to be in the middle of something serious with you and he comes out here with nothing but a towel and looking fine. Might have to jump him right then. It's been a long time, you see."

"I'll skip the banana," he waved the idea off and grinned. "The tea is ready."

"Tea?" Emyrs stopped and looked back at the stove just as the kettle screamed. "Of course. You're like the fairy godmother here. What you say happens. How about a truck full of money now? I also need to repair a couple of cracked teeth."

His ears twitched as he watched Emyrs grab the kettle. "I am not a dentist. You should check on your child."

"Why? It isn't real," she joked, pouring the tea into a yellow mug decorated with pink stars. "The guy in the shower isn't really there. I'm not interested in all of this. Everyone has always expected me to marry and have the perfect family. Have lots of children because our species is rare or some bullshit." Getting irritated by the fuss, her hand holding the kettle started shaking and she held it steady with her free hand. "I apologize, friend. I know you're just trying to-"

"Turn to me."

His voice was now calm and cool, no longer frosted with annoyance. She complied and saw an infant on his lap. Its head was turned away from her and snuggled into his robe. "What nice skin. So soft." Emyrs set down Splinter's mug on the table and reclaimed her seat. "Is she asleep?"

"Yes."

"Abigail was going to be an Anna," she whispered and crossed her arms on the table. "Mother's infatuation with England and America changed all of that. She loved the name Abigail. I had no choice." A chuckle later, Emyrs poked the infant and playfully said, "Can I see your face, sleepy child?"

Whenever Emyrs tried to face the infant towards her, the back of the infant's head always appeared. "I can't see her? Like the man who won't come out of my shower?"

"You won't let yourself see them." Splinter drank from his mug while the baby remained quiet. He looked down at its tender face and smiled.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; when the dream was still there, she didn't see the child in his arms again. "You're right. I don't want to see them. It would have been nice to experience all of this, but it's not for me."

"Make yourself whole again and go back home," he pleaded with his shiny black eyes. She noticed his fur was healthy and full, absorbing the sunlight from the window. The dream was silent once again. Peaceful, even.

"I will when I find Mei and shoot her right between the eyes."

"You will do no such thing, Ms. Becker."

"I came close," she frowned and outlined his mug with her shaky finger. "I love feeling the recoil. I love smelling the powder."

He didn't answer and instead, held a gun in his grip, nuzzle facing the ceiling. "Then perhaps you will listen to me easier now."

The corners of her lip curled, "Oh, I'm listening. Proceed. With your bad-ass self."

Splinter had to humor her more and sit back in the seat, like a cowboy ready to make a proposition with his enemy, holding a gun and all. "You are a strong-willed woman, but we both know that your mental state is fragile. You are sick and need help. It will crush soon under this weight, and the older you get, the harder it is to regain control of what has been lost."

Emyrs looked away and studied the bathroom door for a moment. Her right shoulder ticked.

He continued, lowering the gun, "Let me share one of my favorite thoughts with you, my gentle friend: 'I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man'."

"We have glass wings that are either too fragile to carry us or too heavy for us to use," she ran with his words. "I want to shoot mine and be free."

He dropped the stiff cowboy act and leaned in closer to her. "I can shatter them now for you. If you promise me that you will pack up and go home. To your real home. I don't want to see you hurt anymore."

She fired back at him, "I can't -"

"Your daughter needs you and you are not there! You CAN be there for her, but you are so blinded by your own revenge. Open your senses!" A popping glow roasted deep within his eyes, and she glared at him for the longest. Her expression softened once she realized her friend was just concerned for her safety.

"Abby can take care of herself better than I can. When I clear my conscience, I can face her once again. My mind is like a constant train, buzzing through so many lands and dreams, and I pass her by without blinking."

His anger floated away with each of her words, and there was an unsettling rumble in his chest. He ignored it.

Emyrs rubbed her chin and gave him one last resolve. "When the train stops, I can live again. I care for you, my friend, and we will see each other before I go. I'm sorry that I can't honor that promise."

He firmly nodded.

"But I can honor this one: I will make the most of my journey and become a better person. A better butterfly. Trust me. Trust us."

"A better butterfly," he teased and pointed the gun at her. She waved her hands frantically.

"Don't point that thing at me! Kuma! Wait!" she squealed like a pig.

He clicked the trigger, and a long stream of liquid bee-lined into her face. She yelped and almost fell out of her chair, but once she licked her lips, she started laughing. "Tea! What the hell!"

Splinter rose from his seat and handed the gun back to her. "Your feet were made to run. Your wings were meant to fly."

His kind smile was the last thing she saw before the blanket of twilight consumed the dream. There was no sense of time or space in the abyss of nothing, and life was scattered into the pool as stars.

* * *

"You better stop poking her cheek. She'll eat you."

"Shut up, crybaby!"

Jab, jab, jab. Emyrs heard the two child-like voices and felt the prods on her right cheek. The second voice had a lisp, and she thought a wet patch was forming on her cheek, too. Lovely.

The first child whined, "I think he's coming. I don't wanna get screamed at! Bye!" He had a cute accent. She couldn't pinpoint it right away.

"You big wuss!" the second child teased, lispy and still spraying all over her face. "I ain't afraid of no big green giant. I'll kick him in the teeth!"

A deeper voice entered the conversation and boomed, "Stupid Snaggletooth! I'll kick the rest of your teeth out! Scram!" Tiny footsteps scurried out of the room.

"Long time no see, old lady."

It was a recognizable gruffly, commanding voice. She could push her eyes open only halfway, peering through a film and saw his tired but comforting face. "Raphael? Hello."

"Sorry for not coming by or calling," he mumbled and looked down at the floor. "I got myself in a mess as usual."

She finally forced her eyes open. "You wanted to get away from drama, right?"

He scoffed, "It follows me like a storm cloud. Sorry about these kids poking you. Let me wipe your face, too. Fucking kid and his spit." He grabbed a towel off the floor and rubbed her cheek dry. Almost skinning it.

"Okay, I'm good now," she demanded and jokingly shook her head. "Are you taking care of these kids? Don't rub their cheeks if you are."

The towel landed on a lopsided chair. "What were you doing out there in the back?"

"Uh," Emyrs groaned as she sat up, "I got lost. I'm a tourist."

Raphael didn't see the humor. "Did someone hurt you? You were knocked out. I found a sign beside ya, too."

She achingly rubbed her cheek and watched him pull a wad of paper out of his coat on the bedpost. In the meantime, she felt a couple of empty places among her teeth. Were they the cracked teeth? Her tongue swam in her mouth.

"The sign says," he snapped and pointed to it, "'Help me; I am injured'. Who the fuck did this?"

"YES!" Emyrs squealed and jabbed her finger into her mouth, feeling the empty gummy spots. "Two of my bad teeth were knocked out! How lucky could I get? Thank you, Rabid Growly Lady! Now I just need to make sure infection doesn't set in."

"I'm sure it wasn't the Rabid Growly Lady who left this note then! Pay attention!" he waved the crumpled paper in her face. "What happened? And more importantly-" Raphael's green fingers pulled out her handgun from his belt. "What is this? You know how to use this thing or are you just fucking around?"

The excitement left her face, and she reached for the gun but he swung it away from her. "No, Em. You tell me everything. Every little thing, and I might give it back to you."

A muffled siren crawled across her skull, but she planned to ignore it and channel her thoughts for the first time in ages. He deserved an explanation; his entire family did, in fact.

"I'm waiting, old lady."

"And I'm getting there, sport," came her retort in the same exasperation as his. "Everything won't be in chronological order or might not solve any of these problems, but I'll do my best." She waited for his reply, and not getting one from him, she knew that was the green light. "Where would you like me to start?"

He wiggled the handgun while wearing a cold stare and propped one foot on the bed, leaning back in his chair. It felt like deja-vu to her.

"I'm a soldier under the KSK Non-Human Division, 5th platoon, here on a mission to stop the evil American humans from taking over the world."

She didn't break a smile or blink; he whistled through his nostrils at her. "Did you say the KKK?"

"The K-S-K. Big difference."

Raphael pumped out his chest. "Why is it just America being evil? Germany doesn't have evil humans? The Middle East? Australia? Seems like a big waste of a country's manpower to send its troops to stop another country's problems."

"You _have_ been living in a sewer most of your life, kid."

"What I mean is," he talked over her, "something must be going way down in our government for Germany to send a special force over here. And they chose someone like you? No offense."

Her migraine suddenly exploded, but she rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah."

"I mean you're not military material and you're 45 years old. I think they have a cut off date."

"I could be younger, you know."

He waved his finger at her. "You're yanking my chain, woman! If I remember correctly, the KSK haven't had any women in their forces because they can't pass the physical requirements. You don't look extraordinary to me. Again, no offense."

"Okay! I surrender!" she held up her hands. "I'm not on the 5th platoon. I'm on the special 6th one to save you Americans from your watered down beer and numerous commercial breaks."

"Now, wait-" he was ready to keep going with his argument, enjoying every minute of showing his research and intelligence, but his excited face melted away and was replaced with embarrassment. "Our beer ain't that bad. Shut up. I knew you were full of crap."

A couple of snickers and honks whirled around the corner, and as Raphael heard them, he screamed, "Snaggletooth! Red! GO TO BED! I'm going to count to three and -"

"If you _can_ count to three-" the lipsy one, Snaggletooth, cried and two sets of footsteps pattered down the hallway again, one obviously slower than the other. Emyrs tried to keep from laughing like a crazy person at the ordeal. Raphael caught her and gently poked her with his foot that was on the bed.

"Don't encourage them! I'm only doing this as a favor to a friend. This is Mikey's type of freak show with spoiled kids in the middle of a warped playhouse. All I need is a talking chair and a cowboy," Raphael hissed and looked behind him one more time to check on any peeping eyes. "Now go back to the real story, Em. I got some business to handle in about an hour."

She twisted a clump of bed sheet and took in a whiff of the damp, sweaty room. The snow outside her window was really pretty and she almost forgot to pick up her thoughts again. "I've had gun training and target practice since I was in my 20s. It's my private hobby and something special to me. I didn't think I needed to tell you or anybody about it."

"It would have been helpful to know." He set his foot back on the floor and sat up.

"And how do you start that in a conversation? At what point in any of our conversations while I've been here would it have been appropriate to tell you?" She mimicked with her hands. "Mm, this chocolate ice cream is good. Can I have that cherry? Did you know I'm good with guns? Pass me the sprinkles."

His icy eyes thawed. "You've been a little unstable, Em. Do you think you should be handling a gun?"

The silence gave her time to spend with the flakes sticking to the window. The buzzing in her head wouldn't stop. When Raphael moved his chair to get to his feet, the sound made her scrunch her eyes.

"I guess that's all for now. Are you hungry?" he gently asked and was the nicest he had been since they met. "I can get you anything."

"Just water, please," she croaked and leaned against the cold wall; it soothed her warm forehead and eased her throbbing head. The flakes drifted and drifted for what seemed like minutes and it pulled her eyelids tight.

Raphael clamored in the kitchen and quietly stepped back into the room. He saw that his friend was asleep and placed the glass of water on the nightstand. Before leaving the room, he made sure the safety was set on the gun and grabbed his coat off the bed post.

* * *

Emyrs Becker was ready to call the Robert Koch Institute, but since she was currently in America, the Center for Disease and Control would suffice especially after seeing the eminence of dirty dishes in the kitchen. It smelled like a rancid turkey's carcass in there and she had to step out and get fresh air from the bathroom, oddly enough. Something needed to be done about the toxic zone, and from the looks of it, nobody, in wherever she was staying, was going to clean anything. She rummaged around for a pair of scrubbing gloves and found ones that had been chewed by mice, or maybe werewolves, either one.

The early morning pressed on, and the gentle hum of the running water stirred some of the house's residents. Emyrs was hoping to prepare a little breakfast before her Grumpypants friend waddled around the place. She chuckled and sang a tune while cutting through scum and grease.

"Whatcha singing, Lady?"

Behind her stood one of the children from the previous night, the one without the lisp. It wasn't Snaggletooth. What did Raphael call the other one? Rufus? Roger? "Just a random tune."

"You talk funny."

"You're not from this area, too. Where are you from?" She grinned and almost dropped a dish.

"Bama."

"Bama?" Emyrs stopped and looked up at the ceiling. "Bama?"

"He means Alabama," entered Snaggletooth with his brown hair going in every direction. "Red's a redneck."

Red, that was it! Another dish almost fell out of her grip.

"Not no redneck!" Red's youthful green eyes could swallow the world. "I don't have a red neck, Dish Lady. I got red hair though."

That kid's red hair was like a flame ate an apple and gave birth to a phoenix. He had cute little freckles across his face and gigantic, polished emerald eyes. Red walked with his hands balled together, like he was frightened but held a strong curiosity streak. Snaggletooth was taller than Red with wild brown hair and cloudy blue eyes. He definitely chewed more off the braver spectrum than Red. Snaggle had a cute lisp, missing front teeth, and a small peculiar birthmark under his right eye.

"Hi, I'm Emyrs Becker and -"

"What kind of name is Emory?" Snaggle asked and joined Red at the table. He put his elbows on the table and widely swung his feet under his chair and the table, at times kicking poor Red who didn't seem to care.

She was having a particularly hard time with one plate, scrubbing it like Raphael had scrubbed her sore cheek. "Emyrs is a type of turtle in Germany and -"

"You're from Germany?" Red gasped and knocked over the salt container. He didn't bother picking it back up. "Do you have tv over there?"

"Now you know she's got tv over there, Red. What a dumb question."

"Shut up, you bananaer head! Some places ain't go no tv."

Snaggle picked up the salt and threw some in Red's eyes. "Don't call me no names, Red! You aspect your superiors!"

Red was whimpering from the grain in his eyes, "I'm sorry, Scott. I'm sorry. I won't ever call you a -naner head again." He continued sobbing, and Snaggletooth Scott was proud of his dominance.

"So it's Raphael who calls you Snaggletooth?" Emyrs joked and rinsed a glass that had mildew on it. There was no answer from the table; she turned and Snaggletooth looked like he was able to throw salt into Emyrs' eyes. "Okay, not a good name to call you?"

"That stupid green giant calls me that name and that's not funny!" Scott condemned, pointing and flailing. "I can't help it if I got missing teeth! My momma pulled them out with a pair of pliers and it caused me to have this lisp."

She looked at Red for confirmation, and he agreed. She was certain that missing teeth wouldn't cause a speech impediment, but maybe Scott the Snaggletooth Banana Head was looking for attention. And he got it.

"Then your name is Scott, right?" Emyrs saved the sinking ship. "And you're Red? Is that your real name?"

"That's his name now. He has cleaned himself of his past and his sons," Snaggletooth declared and even held a finger to the sky. "Red is a brand new man, ready for adventure."

"And breakfast!" Red shyly said and tried to hide in his oversized pajamas. Both kids had to be no more than eight years old, Emyrs guessed, and were in large, very worn clothes.

She smiled at Red. "That's what I'm going to do after these dishes. Does anybody here know how to wash dishes?"

"Big Dawg says dishes are for women," Red confessed and balled his hands into fists. "That's Raphael's nickname in case ya didn't know."

Emyrs growled under her breath. "Is that so?" She twitched her eyes at Snaggletooth's screechy, irritating voice. None of what he was revealing was helping either.

Snaggletooth jumped from his chair. "Yeah! He said when he got a woman, she was going to do the dishes all the time and massage his feet. Isn't that right, Red?"

"Yeah," Red was getting more quiet by the moment. "And cook all the time. Stay in the kitchen like a woman should."

"And screw her until her brains fall out of her ears and then tell her to clean it up!" Snaggle was leaning over the table, laughing loudly and banging his hand across the table. Emyrs' migraine returned and in a flash, tiny little pieces of a plate went flying all over the counter, and Snaggletooth stopped laughing; Red stopped breathing.

"What the hell is all this noise?" Raphael stumbled into the kitchen and was looking straight at the Table Kids. "Stop laughing like a hyena, Snagglepuss! Red, go brush your teeth. I know you didn't brush them last night."

The boys dashed passed Raphael in their own manners (Snaggle bumping against him; Red was avoiding all bodily contact) and doors went slamming in the distance. "RED! That's not the bathroom!" Door opened. Feet pattered. Another door shut.

"Emyrs, what's going on? I need to get some sleep -"

"Are you waiting on a woman to clean your shit, Big Dawg? What kind of modern woman is going to take your lip and THEN you're talking filth around children? You think that's funny? What's so funny?" She had her hands in the water and glaring over her shoulder at an amused Raphael.

"Those kids tell every woman that here. They're kids and they're dumb like that. I can't believe that you fell for it! When have I EVER said anything like that?"

Emyrs found the trash and swiped the broken pieces off the counter and into the trash. "Yes, pick on the gullible foreigner. And give me back my fucking gun. I'm going to clean these dishes, cook breakfast for you and your hoodlums, and leave out the door with _my_ gun."

"Not so fast, Ms. Wild West. You haven't told me anything about what's going on."

"I don't owe you an explanation! I'm tired of people taking my shit from me like I'm a three year old!" She tossed the trash into a corner and went back to scrubbing. "I got my own stuff to deal with, too, chump. You need to go check on your family."

He wasn't laughing any more and stomped next to the table. "And where the hell is your daughter, huh? Where is she? Don't tell me to stay with my family! Don't come into this place and break dishes! You're not getting your gun back with a hair trigger like you have!" All the time he was shouting at her, he was swinging his fingers through the air and slamming his fists on the table, causing the salt to smash on the floor. "I saved you from being out in the cold, from possibly being mugged and RAPED out there!" He huffed and wiped his chin. "Now clean this mess. I'll help you with breakfast. Call me."

She squeezed out the wash rag and quickly wiped the counter. Her anger ate away at her insides so she retreated to the window and watched the snowflakes. Her sides were beginning to ache, and she wanted to brush her teeth but she figured Red had locked himself in the bathroom.

Then there came a loud thud in the distance and Raphael's roaring, "Red! I need to take a dump! It doesn't take that long to brush your teeth! Now get out!"

* * *

They always had the television up too loud, but today it screamed in his ears. He could barely hear Splinter barking at them to turn it down. That was a young Raphael sitting in front of him, peering up at the tv, wasn't it? He could make out his shell pattern anywhere. Raphael was clear in his vision, but the tv and their old living area was fuzzy, like he couldn't focus on it.

"Cornflakes!" Raphael's high pitched voice answered; his small shoulders bounced with his voice. "Don't know what Mikey wants."

"Chocolate puffs." He didn't recognize his own voice, but he knew he wanted chocolate puffs for sure. He swiveled his head behind him, and Splinter was glaring down at the two, holding a soggy spoon.

"That is not what I said!" the father rat snapped and smacked both of them with the spoon, droplets going everywhere. "I said to silence that loudbox!"

He barely felt the spoon, but Raphael whimpered and reached up to turn the tv's knob. He turned it the wrong way and increased the volume but quickly realized his mistake and flinched as the knob rotated the correct way. Mikey thought it was funny that his brother flinched when nobody was in the room.

"Stop laughing!" Raphael's body slumped back in the same spot, and Mikey stared at his shell patterns. They were different this time.

While he hugged his stuffed animal, one that he couldn't see either, everything faded to black and he could still hear Splinter howling about something else. When the older Mike's eyes opened, he quickly remembered that Raphael rarely watched the tv when they were kids.

His thoughts were dismissed when he didn't recognize the ceiling above him. Mike's entire body tingled and he wanted to scratch all of it. His eyes watered through the drowsiness, and he could barely make out the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was half lit and clutched an uneasy atmosphere.

Scanning to his left, someone was asleep on a chair beside the bed. After his eyes adjusted, he recognized the chocolate hair and slender body.

Except she wasn't holding a gun at him this time.

Mike needed to book it while he could, but his legs and hands were frozen to the bed. A blanket covered his body and it was impossible to see what was causing his immobility. Great. Perfect, he moaned. If only Casey were around...

Casey. Fingers. Blood.

The scream.

April and Shadow.

He struggled more and grunted, squeezing the tormenting images out of every pore and blinking back his moist eyes.

"Casey! Where are you?" Words bled together. "You better not be dead!" He couldn't resist a Raphael moment, even when in a bind and the joke alleviated a fraction of the pain.

"Michelangelo." A fresh wind brushed against his cheeks and the feminine voice gave him familiar chills.

"Mei," he breathed and looked down at the bed's end. "What is this?"

Her flickering silver stream trickled into a solid form and trailed behind her as Mei approached Mike's side. She bent down close to his face, and he could smell and feel her once again. "My word is my bond. I am here for you."

"What do you want, Mei?" The light collapsed in his bright blue eyes. "What's your true intention?"

Her tiny smile and glossy cheeks could eat the world. He couldn't tell if she was genuine in her actions or not. She regained a perfect posture, her braided light blue bandana over her right shoulder, and she wore the whitest dress; it almost blinded him.

"Yeah, Mei," a grating tongue behind Mei asked. "I would like to know that, too."

Mike peered at the lady in the chair, now awake and with her golden eyes gleaming in the half light.

"Your aid has been appreciated, Mu." Mei didn't turn around and her smile had disappeared. "Heal yourself and rest at ease."

Mu groaned and winced when she sat up in the chair and wanted to provoke the argument but ceased her thoughts almost immediately.

There was no reaction from Mei.

Mike's temper softened. "Mei, I know about you. I know that you're a sorceress and probably screwed with my mind, but I trusted you. I really trusted you. Why did you hurt Casey? I-"

"Your friend will recover from his injuries." Mei was almost robotic, only her eyes moving down to penetrate his disappointed gaze. "I remember everything you said to me during our union. I feel I should not repeat something so personal to you."

His heart eclipsed, and he watched her eyes peering through the shadow. Their moments fluted together in his mind, eventually dulling down to a small whistle.

She had listened, she cried with him, she watched over him, her hands, her eyes, her voice, and her vitality bred personal comfort. Don't leave me, he would tell her.

_Stay until I fall asleep. Be here when I wake up._

_I will, Michelangelo. Have pleasant dreams._

Whenever he closed his eyes, the little girl haunted him. That little turtle girl. Was she not real either? Which memories _were_ real? He remembered her tragic eyes. The eyes that painted death. They waded through the sewer water together, and he tried to stop her from crying and being hysterical. She wouldn't stop. She just wouldn't stop. _Come here, little one. We are the same! Please don't run. I'm here. My name is Mikey. I have coloring books at home. I have a house full of brothers and we'll protect you. We love protecting people. It'll be fun. I promise!_

The eyes that painted death were eventually oils saturating with the city's sewer. She became waste.

He became a different person.

Mike never wanted his brothers to know. His ears rung for days, weeks, and it was one of the few times he ever had to exert his body's full potential.

The little disfigured turtle-like girl who was a suicide bomber. He never knew where she came from or if he ever had a chance to console her.

_Why?_

He sobbed when his family was out of the home and he took refuge in the Jones apartment during the daytime. He couldn't watch the news. He couldn't sleep.

_Why, Little Girl? We're rare. You needed us. We needed you. _

Then, every battle, every confrontation, every limb he ever snapped or heart he ever stopped endlessly haunted him. He heard the snaps, the gurgles, and the screams in his slumber. Why they all wanted to disturb him at once was unsettling.

_Mikey, you killed me. You killed them. _

Her voice made his stomach writhe. She exploded every day. Over and over again. Parts of her body would talk to him, chastise him, and slither towards him, threatening to consume him in the next blast.

Then, Shadow Jones emerged. A healthy, fresh start. He vowed to protect her, and she, in her innocence, quietened the nightmares. They were always whispering from the back of his mind but at least it was the eye of the storm. Peaceful, for as long as it would last.

Peace. Once, he felt that with his kin. He wanted to feel it with a new person. And then came Mei.

_Maybe_, he told himself, _this wasn't your brightest move after all_.

"Sleep, Tu. Sleep." Mei placed her hand over his cheek, and Mike's eyes relented. "You are powerful and as strong as your family. Heal from your agony and we will speak soon."

Lisa slumped in her seat and choked back her pain. One blink, and she missed Mei's departure.

* * *

_Notes/Trivia/Etc: It's interesting that Emyrs didn't have the same kind of dreamwalk as Lisa and Donatello. Is Emyrs trapped in her own mind, in the KITCHEN of all places? I think we can relate to that, hmm (being trapped in our minds, not the kitchen)? If she could dreamwalk in the same place as Lisa and Don, what would she see? _

_Red was originally going to be an African American. "Snaggletooth" is a nickname for one of our coworkers and she DID pull her tooth out with a pair of pliers._

_I promise that this story won't turn into a Disney flick with annoying kids. I did need a little humor to balance the drama.  
_

_I didn't want the suicide bomber-story to be the end-all for Mikey and the start of his depression. It merely triggered a rumble in his mind. Can you imagine seeing something like that? I think any of the Turtles would be emotionally scarred. _


	42. Chapter 38 :: Flat Line

_Synopsis: Splinter visited Emyrs in the dreamworld and hoped that he could talk some sense into her. Tired of living without conviction, Emyrs declined to return home and, instead, continued her journey._

_When she awoke, Raphael had rescued her and demanded answers. To her surprise, he is in charge of a safe house. Emyrs met the rambunctious children of the house: Scott "Snaggletooth" and Red._

_Also waking up from his coma, Mike meets Lisa, his attacker ... and Mei, who reassures Mike that she will take care of him and means no harm. Mike relives haunting memories and, through Mei's touch, returns to slumber._

* * *

"Weatherman said it might be three feet of snow or more!"

"Great! This will make getting to work fun and easy. My boss don't care what the weather does."

"Guess I could always ice-skate to work! Ya got the Times?"

Three strangers, bundling deep in their winter coats, milled through the frosty evening, and as soon as their lips shut and eyes darted forward, they were lost to the human flood. Phones buzzed, ear-buds vibrated, and murmurs danced in the snappy breeze. Propaganda laced street poles as far as one could see, and pushy advertisements glared from its looming towers at the pests of the Big Apple. The citizens knew elections were approaching, and there were thin, ribbon boundaries between the Humans and "Nons". Hearts torn and faces scowled at every possible moment, thinking about the future and where the buses will eventually stop in the chaos.

And this was just New York City; indeed, a place that never rested and never forgot. Citizens who took matters into their own hands and slipped their fingers around the easiest opportunities. Local radio announced the formations of small rebel and terrorist groups, batting for either side of issues and, thankfully, never making it to the home-plate. No gray area seemed to exist in the bigger scheme, no happy medium in sight. Anti-war groups congregate in churches and homes and rattle their brains to find a solution, or at least finding a middle ground for it all; when they catch enough steam to get their plans rolling, the elected officials and public never back them. Momentarily, they scatter and disappear, and then return with another idea. An endless cycle at a puttering speed.

In the surge of political talks and campaigns, one group quietly pushed forward a new face. His posters and ads were mainly overshadowed by the more aggressive movement, but it was the underground buzz and internet streams that were giving him time in the spotlight. The alias "Tame Titan"was adopted by the public and supporters, and his prominent mass and wheat-colored hair were very driven symbols. The looks of a jock but the brains of a scholar. His non-traditional way of holding his long hair in a ponytail didn't meet with critics at first, but the campaign slogan mirrored the radically changing public and the "judging books by its covers" mentality. Behind his black lenses and giant smiles, "Hunter" H. Nicholas Mason was the steam the anti-war group needed to push their train along the very narrow tracks. Tracks that were becoming more crowded and saturated by the day.

Some feared the political storm brewing in the horizon was more dangerous than the approaching blizzard.

"Air, but not exactly fresh in this city," Vanderman chuckled, holding the door open for his petite new friend, Abigail. She almost slid on an icy patch but regained her balance before Vander's giant paws reached her. "Steady there. Are you okay?"

Embarrassment painted on her cheeks, Abby hastily nodded, "I'm all good. Sorry."

The two acquaintances immediately watched the clouds cover the sky, almost like a thick quilt. While Abby continued staring, Vander glanced at a nearby poster tacked on a pole. "I'm really sick of this propaganda. All they're doing is profiting from our suffering." His voice died off into the environment's hum.

She calmly inhaled and watched her breath flow into the world. "That's what it seems like, isn't it? I don't know much about politics, but most of the faces on the posters act like they're hiding something."

His eyes repeatedly outlined everything on the poster in question. "You're sharp. That's exactly what they're doing."

"Except him." She stopped as Vander peered down at her and she pointed towards his poster. "He looks genuine."

"Mason?" Vander nodded towards the poster, his expression wrinkling, "I'm not so sure about him, Lady Becker. There's something about him I don't like."

"Maybe you should give him a chance. He's running in a tough race and against a lot of odds."

The wolf straightened his posture and talked up at the sky, "Hunter Nicholas Mason. Just the name gives me the creeps. Hunter. In the wild, they have guns and prey on my kind."

Abby tightened her fists snugged deep in their pockets. "This is civilization, Herr Vanderman, and you can defend yourself. They wouldn't just shoot you on the streets!"

"Lady Becker," his gaze fell back to Earth as the wind brushed over his fur, "these buildings and cars are just like the trees in the great forest. Predators everywhere. They still hunt us. We're food and trophies to them. We're -"

"Listen to yourself," a pair of hazel eyes flickered at him. "You sound very paranoid. How are you supposed to live that way? Are you going to be okay? Do you need to see the doctor, too?"

He couldn't harbor any ill-will towards a child, especially to one that wanted to oversee his health. Vander's eyes grew to quarter-sized from the heat but quickly diminished back to normal as he scanned the worried look on her face. They stood for a moment, and just stared.

No blinking. Cars running in the background and a gentle breeze.

A chuckle from deep in his throat cut through the silence. "I suppose I'm a little ticked, young lady. I've been through a lot just in these two last days." Lint from his coat pocket fluttered on the ground. "I'm fine, though. Thanks for calming down a hot head. My wife always complains about it. About that part of me."

She nodded and swallowed back any words. As a child, there wasn't too much she could understand and then say. Adults are adults for a reason, Abby concluded. Besides, Vanderman was under a massive amount of pressure, and it was far more than she could borrow to lessen the burden on his shoulders. She felt defeated at her loss to help.

"I met my wife like this," he chimed in, much lighter and was even smiling as he remembered, "Standing here and just talking. We went to the same insurance company, and ironically were switching from our old policies on the same day. I kept noticing her green eyes and curly brown hair while we were waiting. I probably seemed like a pervert and I didn't know if she was fond of my kind."

She saw a bird pecking the ground nearby and grinned at Vander's storytelling. He was still nervous from that day, she could tell, and it felt like it was all unfolding once again.

He continued, almost shyly, "To my surprise, she looked up from reading her magazine and smiled at me. It was warm and inviting. Everything was so plain in my life, other than my parents losing their home, but I wasn't looking for anything. I think I stared at her for a good minute before I could stutter out a greeting. She was called to the desk before we could talk. Then I got called to an agent. In between answering questions, I learned her name: Dawn, and it couldn't have fit her any better."

The spotty bird flicked around its beak and stopped to listen. Abby pulled out a pack of chewing gum and delicately offered one to Vander, who declined. Bird caught something in its vision and shot away.

"Sometimes we would joke to each others' backs whenever the agents had to disappear. I think we laughed about the latest hit series or something, possibly whatever drama there was on television." Vander caught his breath and then grinned, "I like the chick shows for some reason; I guess my mother always watched them so I did too. We talked about why we were changing policies and what the best rates were. Some business, some personal. My session was wrapped up early and I said goodbye to her. I almost felt like I was leaving an old friend."

Thankfully, Abby knew, it wasn't the end of his fairy tale. The air was getting colder and she signaled to him to head back inside.

His mammoth hands opened the door for her. "Something told me not to leave and I stood around my van, inspecting my tires and checking the oil while she finished her business. I didn't want to look like a stalker. She had joked later on that while I was doing that, I should have checked hers because her car had been running hot!" They shared a laugh as they stepped inside the building. "But she came outside, and I think she lit up when she saw me. I want to say she did. She might tell you that the sun got in her eyes."

Abby dusted off her hat and stopped in front of the elevator. "She sounds really sweet."

"We talked more and exchanged numbers. I can't even remember the rest of my day because I couldn't wait to call her that night. We didn't meet up again until the next week because she was out of town on business, but we talked on the phone every night."

The elevator sounded a gentle chime, and the two boarded an empty space. The doors closed and Vander pushed their floor's button. "We were married six months later at a private ceremony because neither one of our families cared much for us marrying the other. We made the best of it and could party the way we wanted to. I'm a horrible singer but I did my best for her. She threw tomatoes at me and said she would pay for my lessons."

They arrived at their destination. Abby almost tripped while stepping out of the elevator, and Vander caught her by the coat sleeve. She warbled, "Sorry. I'm fine! She was going to pay for your lessons?"

"We traveled together when we could," his voice relaxing again, "and we could have moved away from here but decided against it. Actually, it was because of me. I didn't want to leave my parents with the full mortgage on our home, and my dad wasn't in the best health. So we stayed. She didn't mind and made the best out of a tricky situation. We never went to bed angry; that was our rule."

Instead of stopping at the Nons waiting room, Vander continued forward, and Abby was intrigued to hear the rest of the story and traced his footsteps. As they got closer to the hospital ward, his voice and attitude dipped. "They struck at the airport, and we just happen to be in the middle of it. I tried to protect her, but she was nearest to the destruction. If I could take it all back, it would be me there. I could take much more than she could."

Naturally, the curious Abby wanted to know 'who' struck the airport, but she recalled hearing about small terrorist acts in the city, mostly fear and hate groups on both sides of the fence. She blurted out before she knew it, "But then she would be worried about you, and you don't want that either. This way, you can be strong for her."

And then everything happened so fast: a nurse frantically calling for Vander about an emergency regarding his wife's condition and then Vander disappearing. The wind gust from the doors shutting in her face. The feel of her heart in her throat. Vander's wife, Dawn. Will she make it?

Abby was very lost in her thoughts until a familiar voice sprung through her head. "Hey! There you are!"

Donatello, looking slightly frazzled and quick breaths escaping him. She gave him one of her perplexed looks.

"You were supposed to go back to the waiting room. I've been looking all over this place for you!"

Instead of making excuses, for which she had none, Abby nodded and walked passed him.

"Hey," he softly touched her shoulder, "what's going on?"

The Surgical Area doors creaked a most peculiar sound, like someone was slowly opening it from the other side. Abby and Don carefully watched for the person to show, but one of the doors hung open.

"Hello?" Don's hand left Abby's shoulder and he crept closer to the door. The hallway was unnaturally quiet for a busy hospital; all of the sound had been swallowed by the disturbance. "Abby, can you see this?"

Abigail Becker turned her head away from the doors and walked up the hallway. Don ignored her dismissal and investigated further by slipping through the doors. He followed his gut instinct, and it carried him to the only lighted room in the ward. Everything remained silent. No machines or voices. Don caught a glimpse of Abby's wolf Non friend and the staff's desperate struggle to keep his loved one alive. Mouths moved but no sound. Muted chaos.

A figure appeared from the corner of the room and stepped around the staff and the bed. It was difficult to make out the face, or even the shape. It was there, Don believed, but conveniently shielding itself. The longer he stared at it, the more he could decipher the shape. Not a human. Mutant. A Non. Whatever it was, it was staring right back at him, and he quickly lost his grip on the situation as the lights from the ward flushed through the darkness. He needed to make his escape. The sounds bled through the barrier once again, and as he left the room, he heard the traumatic sound of a flat-lined heart monitor.

* * *

"Miss O'Neil?"

The nurse's call almost blended with the hospital's backdrop; it gently pushed her back to awareness. "Yes?"

"He's awake now. I'll have to keep it short, I apologize. Doctor's orders."

Her eyes and lips chapped and fatigue was setting in, April acknowledged the nurse and proceeded down the corridor. Every step made her chest hurt, and she could feel the sting in her eyes again. This had to be a dream. It was happening too fast yet time crawled while she waited. How was that even possible? His room inched further and further away, but she was soon standing in front of the white door. Casey Jones. Her Casey Jones? Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she knew her muffin was returning to her mouth again.

The last thing she needed to think about was if he was still hers. Not hers today. He was an injured friend today. If she kept dwelling on it, the staff would have another mess to clean.

The knob's turn and door creaking made her skin crawl. Why was she so scared? This was Casey, and he needed as much support as he could get, and she was acting quite silly over the matter. It was hard not think about her own feelings, what happened between them, the many years between them, and then this incident with the attackers. Casey has fought many people on the streets over the years but very few had been vicious enough to infiltrate their home. With Shadow in the household, vigilantism had died and threats diminished, for which April was thankful. Moving expenses were a nightmare.

She disciplined herself for thinking about money again. Sigh. Always about money.

"Hey," her voice felt very tiny in the room. Casey had a huge ball of gauze around his injured hand and scratches and bruises were colored all over his skin. It made her very sad to see him lying there. Casey was always back on his feet, never wounded in a bed.

He was fantastically medicated and grinned at her. "Hi, pussycat. When did you dye your hair red?"

"I haven't. Yet." She smiled and twirled a rogue strand. When she felt how oily her hair was, she quickly tried to fluff it and sat in a chair next to his bed. "Did you get to see Donny?"

"That asshole climbed in through the window! Like old times!" he spluttered and tried to lift his injured hand. "Why did he do that? April, can you wipe the snow off my hand? It's so heavy I can't move it... yeah ..." His words evaporated as he looked at the ceiling and showcased a lopsided smile.

April casually stroked his arm and patted it. "I wanted to say Merry Christmas and that we're not far away at all when you need us. You do look better."

She lied a little: he was as rough as bristles, but it was an improvement from earlier in the day when it looked like a tank rolled over him. Twice. Seeing him _alive_ and alert was enough to give her a good night's sleep.

While April surveyed his wounds, Casey glided out of his fog for a moment and hastily chattered, "Don't stay with me just because I'm here. D-don't stay." When her expression fell to the floor, he closed his eyes to stop the spinning. "I don't want. Pity. Pity for being here. I love you, but I –," he sharply inhaled and finally relaxed, "-want you happy. Happy. Like you used to be."

She couldn't move. Her stone cold hands over his warm, hairy skin.

"Merry Christmas, pussycat. I see hooded bunnies on my bed now." It didn't take long before the nurse galloped in and escorted a frozen April out of the room. She was in the middle of a racing circuit and completely muted everything.

Don watched her from his seat and knew that look anywhere. He waited for her to stop by the Nons visiting room, but she paid no attention to her surroundings. Chasing after her wasn't going to do any good, he realized, and accepted that someone else could help relieve her anguish.

Too bad he couldn't be that friend to her anymore. Too much of a rift between them.

* * *

The moment when the world stops... when every bad thought and tragedy flashed before her eyes and replayed countless times, like a sick movie or dream; she faced her demons once again and they battled for the one to unwrap every last nerve and maim it.

April didn't feel the cold air. She walked outside but couldn't feel the difference between the hospital and the city, but she deserved to be alone with her own mental torture. Pushed the ones she loved away. Ignored the ones who never left her. Tangled in her own labyrinth for so long that she believed the new life to be true. All of those scattered thoughts while deaths, injuries, and abandonment from many years past made her colder than the storm's edge.

Slipping away from the crowd, she found a little corner in the dark where she could just bury her head in her gloves and let the demons win. Now, the world truly halted and no sense of time or anything mattered. Her oily bangs slumped over the moist gloves as her body tried retracting itself more and more. She found a pose that allowed her to weep without physical pain and shield herself from anyone. Her own little shell forging a channel to peace.

Outside the barrier, she felt a presence, and it was as numb as hers. Instantly, she wanted all of her boys together again and sitting around her, talking about food, weapons, and girls. What she wouldn't give to see them smashing each other's heads against the wall or the coffee table again. She remembered their first meeting: a rendezvous in the sewer after her friend fell down and knocked herself out cold. That was the summer when April had twisted her left leg playing soccer. It blew anyone's mind on why she jumped down the hole and tried to be a hero. A construction crew member put the lid back on the hole and didn't hear April's screams. Trapped in the dark, a frightened fifteen year old April clutched on her sleeping friend and eventually gathered up the strength to escape. She didn't get too far when a light came down the tunnel and then clicked off when she shouted.

He was there then, and he was here now. Leonardo. Always at the right time.

When she turned, he was absorbed in the city and sky. It was hard to come up with anything meaningful or even funny to say. There wasn't anything light-hearted to say, really.

"Please forgive me for ever making you cry." His quiet voice pulsed like the light from the tunnel back then. It brought feeling to her cheeks again. "You know what I have to do."

In the corner of her stinging eye, April saw Don and Abby by the lobby doors, and Don was looking straight at them, a face contorted with worry. She snapped away from him and balanced on her rubber legs. "When you return, let's be a family again." Almost inaudible through her stuffy nose and wet mouth, but Leonardo acknowledged and she silently parted ways.

Without even a single glance in Donatello's direction, April vanished, like her ninja brothers. As good as the pros, he mildly amused.

He motioned for Abby, and they scuffled to Leonardo's corner, shivering and blowing into their gloves.

"Is it too cold for you, my student?" Leonardo grinned at young Abby and then shot one at his brother. "You too, sweetheart?"

"Can it, dog-breath," Donatello dryly retorts, pulling his coat tighter and growing more serious. "I know that look anywhere. What's the plan and how many gadgets will I need?"

Hopping to his feet and smiling for morale's sake, Leonardo briskly patted Don on the shoulder and said in passing, "You and the dancer. Me and the wild thing. I have everything I need, Brother. Signal if you need help."

"Oh, you get the fun one, huh?"

"No, _you_ get the fun one." Leonardo winked at Abby. "And you get the student, too!"

Abby wasn't getting the inside joke and looked at Don like a lost puppy. "My lucky day," he cocked a smile and then pointed back to the door. "If you get away from me this time, I'm handcuffing you to the seat."

"Actually, can we go back to the apartment? I need to pick up something there."

"It can't wait? I have to be here for my friend."

Abby blinked. "The one that won't talk to you?"

He rolled with the insult. "Yeah, the one that I ticked off without knowing what I did, but Casey is my friend too, and I need to be here."

"Hand me the keys. I'll drive!" Little pink-gloved fingers twiddled in the air.

He looked as if he would spit in them. "You're going to pester me until I rot, won't you? That's what kids do. You little parasites!" He dug in his pockets, pulled out coins, and dumped them in her hands. "I need a cappuccino first. Double vanilla, hold the cream. That's your first lesson. Make it back in two minutes."

"But it's on the third floor! The first floor machine is broken because you-"

"Then I suggest you learn how to run!"

* * *

The Jones' apartment building screamed ghost town. Nightfall crept over the horizon, and the lights were dim in the other tenants' rooms. Abby glued herself to Don's body, and she knew it was like crawling into a lion's den, but she was pitifully cold and a little scared.

He slid the keys into the front door and then meticulously removed her stiff body from his back. Before he even flicked on the lights, crunching sounds came from the floor. He dreaded what he might see as soon as the lights were burning.

And he was pretty much correct.

"Holy cow!" Abby whispered behind him and tried to walk around debris. Instantly, she spotted the dark blood stains in the carpet and along the wall.

Donatello stood quietly next to the overturned couch. "Get what you came here for, Abby. We're not here to sight-see."

She danced around the debris and headed straight for the old basement. Her old home away from home. She hadn't seen it since running away from her mother and a pair of scissors wildly slashing through her hair. Hair that she worked hard to keep healthy, but it was over now. She would gladly give up all of her hair to see Mother again.

Mother's side of the room: disaster area, much like upstairs. Her own side was a little scattered but mostly in tact. It was difficult not remembering all of the funny times over the last three months: the games, talks, and jokes. She saw an unused mop head on the floor and grinned. Mother donned it at the local supermarket and used it as a wig through the store. The manager said she had to pay for it, and she didn't kick up a fuss. Silly woman.

"Abigail."

Don's reserved tone pushed her back to reality. Time to pack up, she knew. Abby dragged out her suitcases and stuffed everything she could into them, including the mop head and possessions from her mother's side of the bedroom.

Don was looking at a family photo on the nightstand of Emyrs and Abby and spotted a letter full of mismatched handwriting. Abby snatched it and the photo from his sight and finished her chore.

Three suitcases and a duffel bag later, Abby wheeled one suitcase upstairs and through the garbage. Don followed behind her with the two remaining suitcases. "I already have junk in the van. I don't know how I'm going to fit all of this in there!"

Something on the floor popped and Abby yelped. She ran it over with the suitcase and waited for Don by the lobby's front door.

Don was mortified once they reached the van and there wasn't a lick of room for the last two suitcases. "I don't know what's going to be sacrificed. Do you want to ride on the roof?" He clouted his head against the door frame and mouthed an expletive.

Abby nestled in the passenger seat and held a suitcase in her lap. "Or I can drive and you ride on the roof."

The suitcase crashed on the ground. "You'll have dirt in your underwear. Hope you don't mind!" He was beyond frustrated with the matter; he snapped the suitcase closed and stuffed two underwear and a pig doll in his coat pocket. Ramming the contents together and most certainly breaking something in the process, Don slammed the driver's door and sipped his java. Waiting for the tepid liquid to calm his nerves, he came to a dreary realization.

He hadn't even faced the enemy yet.


	43. Chapter 39 :: Faith and Fears

_Synopsis: Political heat is rising in the City, on the brink of a massive snowstorm. Vanderman, the wolf Non, is suspicious, especially of a newcomer to the political game named Hunter Nicholas Mason. _

_Abby learns of Vander's endearing past with his wife. It all leads up to a horrifying conclusion: his wife dies, and Donatello, lead by an eerie presence, sees the event unfold. It undeniably puts Donatello on edge for the rest of the day._

_April recalls tough memories and after seeing an injured and medicated Casey in the hospital bed, she has a mental breakdown outside the building. Leonardo sits with her and confesses that he's going to find Casey's attackers and right the wrongs. April says nothing but gives her blessing._

_And finally, Abby and Donatello visit the Jones' ram-shacked apartment; Abby retrieves as many of her personal belongings as possible, much to Donatello's numerous complaints. He doesn't like the idea of being a babysitter._

_Beta readers/helpers: BlowMyHeartUp, Alex Hamato, Jarrah White, MutantRebel and TabbietheCatLady._

* * *

_At least I got half of my to-do list completed: unloaded this little girl and her forty suitcases full of frilly panties and tourist-y crap, got my equipment ready in my disaster zone workroom, ate, and, now, to pick up my prescription at Liberty Mart. I think Splinter wanted a cheesecake and peppermint tea, and I'm sure Leo needed something, like a week ago. I can't remember. I wonder if Liberty's got the latest shipment of e-readers. I could use some new headphones, and that two-dollar off coupon on laundry detergent. I think I stuffed the coupon in my glove-box. Oh... look here! I've been searching for this flashlight! I thought Raph lost it. I almost feel bad about calling him an ugly name and saying that he was worthless, but I guess he's over it. And he's not home so it doesn't matter. When I see him, I'll let him have some tea._

_Dumped Abigail in the Lair. Thank goodness! Sweet girl, but I'm not in the mood for kids. I'd rather listen to jazz while driving to Liberty. All of the stations spew the same type of crappy music, and why do they always play commercials at the same time! If this lady doesn't go in front of me, I'll run over her face and give her something to complain about. Greeeaaat. My horn is going out again! One other thing falling apart in old Bucket here._

_Trance music. I can live with that. No lyrics, no one telling me how they feel about someone leaving them or beating their toddler with an infant. Something crazy like that. Just music that takes me on my own journey._

_I think my horn has honked its last honk. Shit!_

New York City and its traffic jams at the dead of night. Donatello kicked himself every time he thought there was a clear shot to the mart. Why was he driving anyways? He could sprint to the Mart and even haul the items back, but there was something _liberating_ about driving a vehicle to him. He could keep driving passed the City, into the woods, into other cities, states, and other sides of the country, but he always turned back. Even if he booked it, his brothers would hunt him down, like a year ago when he nearly hit New York's state line. He panicked and fled. Scared of what was happening to his family and the future.

He didn't have the brains to cure their father. It hurt to even think that.

_Dammit, this traffic needs to move. I'm thinking too much. I should have written a list down. Guess I could do that now._

Good thing he had a pen in his pocket because there wasn't a single one in the console. One of Leo's paycheck stubs served as backing. Don cringed at the amount of hours he saw his brother work over a two-week period; he really didn't have to do all of that. Maybe Leo wanted to work and keep his mind occupied. That sounded tragically familiar.

Almost six album tracks later, the traffic line moved again, and it was a glorious thing to see Liberty's burning logo at last. Stepping out of the Bucket van was always a hassle. Tonight, the driver's side window shattered when he closed the door. He didn't feel like caring and shuffled the fragmented glass pieces under another car. No one was looking.

"Welcome to Liberty Mart!" the elder door greeter forcefully said. Don smiled and nodded. Retrieving a shopping cart was like wrestling with a tiger. In fact, he would rather wrestle a tiger than shop in the store, but he didn't have a choice and the snowstorm was on the horizon. His phone kindly reminded him of the many storm alerts.

He had a routine: grab what's on the list first and then treated himself to the electronics section. The pharmacy line was a hundred miles long, and it was just a hop and a skip away from the computers and gadgets. He squeezed beside the line and quickly took his blood pressure. Not bad at all despite a rather stressful day. The key was keeping his mind in check and not bothering with the watchful eyes of humans and Non-humans in the pharmacy line.

_Yeah, yeah, I'm rare. Please look at the condoms and lubes beside you, folks._

He motored as far away as he could from that dreadful area and peered at the latest line of electronics. No e-readers, but he saw his mid-grade headphones and a few cables that could be useful. All he did on his computer these days was chat with international friends and listen to music. He tried his hand at mixing music, but he fell out of admiration and went back to mostly silence.

_It's actually nice to look forward to an adventure again. There's only so much happiness that Liberty can give me over time._

Donatello wheeled to the music section and saw new artist releases that Mikey would like. Mike. That Mike would like. It could be a late Christmas gift.

Back to the pharmacy, back to the crazy stares. His phone beeped again and he quickly shut it off before he was mobbed. An hour was crawling by, and it was getting extremely late. Someone bumped into him and while his mass barely stumbled, the shorter person certainly did.

"Sorry there!" Donatello exclaimed and offered his hand. He was looking into a pair of really pretty hazel eyes, light olive facial skin, and a mature smile on a seasoned face. The silver hooded jacket swallowed her entire body, and she hadn't taken the hood off while in the store. It was almost difficult to look at her face, but her face reminded him of someone familiar. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," her flowery voice responded. "I am sorry. I tripped."

Asian accent, he noticed and nodded to her. "Be careful. Especially with this storm and after Christmas fiasco."

As she walked away, her eyes twinkled and voice carried like a breeze. "At the center of your being, you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want.."

He stopped smiling and knew what she said was extremely familiar; Splinter always said it to them. Even as the lady stepped away, he focused on her and didn't realize his tongue slipping. "Miss! Wait!"

Indeed, she yielded but didn't turn around. He briskly continued, "I'm almost through the line. Please don't disappear! I just need to pick up my medicine. Here." Donatello halted once he felt every eye in the store on him. Even with tension as thick as bread, he sliced through the line as soon as a spot became available and shuffled back to the lady.

"I asked the pharmacy to check out what items I have," he blushed and laughed. "So, um, what you said to me. My father says it all the time. I'm curious. That's all."

When she faced him, it was almost mechanical. "Do you have everything you need?"

He clumsily pulled out the list and scanned it. "Laundry detergent! Crud. Uh, do you mind walking to the..." words trailed while his eyes dashed around the store, "...OTHER side of the building? Sorry."

She nodded in the direction he had been looking. "Yes. Good."

Donatello had no earthly clue why he was so star-struck by this lady. Was it her eyes? The way she looked at him? Her stare didn't seem vicious, like the other customers. Almost a welcoming, friendly surveillance minus the little bit of a lost look she possessed. He was delighted that someone actively conversed with him and wasn't forced. Their stroll through the many departments provided time for idle chatter, mostly about the weather and why the adolescent clothing was looking more like adult wear.

"So...," the flirting part of his brain winding down, "we're on the laundry detergent aisle. Are you from this area?"

She examined the different brands of powder. "Do you prefer the liquid or powder?"

"Powder, but I change depending on if I have a coupon or not." He noticed she avoided his question, or didn't hear it perhaps, but he flowed with the conversation.

"Your coupons. Cute," she chuckled, flashing him a dancing smile. "Do you have everything you need for the storm?"

He pushed the cart back and forth behind his foot and shrugged. "Nah. I already have a food stockpile. Plenty of batteries, flashlights, water jugs, and several weather radios. We're fine, but thank you." He noticed the cheerfulness in his voice returning, and so did she.

She selected a powder detergent and gently placed it in his cart. "It is good that you're prepared. Prepared for any unrest."

A stuffy announcement blared from the speakers; Donatello grew more curious about the lady and her intentions. He had a feeling she knew more about him than he certainly knew about her. She slithered to the next aisle while he daydreamed, and it prompted him to catch up in an almost clumsy way.

_God, I'm acting like a teenage boy. I should can it before I creep her out. _

"Excuse me, son, do you prefer the salted or non-salted butter?" a little old lady's voice fluttered behind him. He didn't notice they were in the refrigerated aisle, and if he wasn't careful, he would lose his new mysterious friend.

Little old human ladies loved Donatello for some reason. Everywhere he went, the elders asked him questions and several had even given him a hug for helping. "Salted, but if you have blood pressure problems, you might want to stick with non salted."

"Oh, my husband does. Thank you, dear." And off she went.

But then so did the lady friend! He checked the previous aisle; she wasn't there. Down a few more aisles and he glanced at the adjacent ones. Not a silver jacket in sight.

_Damn! Didn't even catch her name or anything. Just my luck._

Her laundry detergent was still in his buggy and he didn't want it so he stuck it with the fruit roll-ups. Not his night, he kept mumbling. Just not his night at all.

"I was across the aisle, checking on fish food," the sweet voice returneth! She even had her hood down, and he could see her pleasant face more clearly. Her head and eyes were turtle-shaped and this intrigued him more. She appeared older, indeed, and he couldn't place who she resembled in his small circle of friends. He chalked that up to not really paying attention too much.

"I had an aquarium a few years ago, but I went on vacation and forgot about them."

She playfully shook her finger at him. "Shame on you. You wouldn't want anyone to forget to feed you, yes?"

"Uh," he dove into a train of thought and returned, "actually they have, but I'm quiet so it's forgivable."

She laughed, keeping a mature composure. "No person should be forgotten. Memories are dearest."

Donatello transformed into Mister Smooth and melted into a warm grin, "I have a few things to do tonight and possibly tomorrow. Is there any way I could contact you sometime? You're really nice." He didn't know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but he didn't fuss.

"We'll be in touch. I promise."

He seemed convinced and strolled with her to the checkout lane. The male cashier, a grumpy feline Non, lit up when the Lady said he had nice eyes and for him to have a good holiday. Don wondered if he had nice eyes, too. Little old ladies always complimented them at least.

"I can walk you to your car if you have one," he asked and caught up with her. She always sprinting in front of him.

"I walked here. Do you have one?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat and remembered that his driver's side window shattered. What an embarrassment. "It's not glamorous, I'm afraid."

She didn't respond and followed him. Out of his eye's corner, he noticed she always focused straight ahead. Never hung her head low and like she was constantly surveying the environment. He flirted with the idea of her secretly being a ninja or federal agent.

He was in such a daze that they walked past his van and he had to make a quick turn around. She helped him load his groceries and pulled her one bag from the group. They exchanged smiles.

Slamming the door and watching fragments of glass trickle on the pavement, he leaned out the window and nodded to her. "Be safe during this storm, and I hope to see you again."

Her petite boots crushed the glass as she stepped closer to the window. He became a little nervous as she got closer, wondering if she was thinking of kissing him or something; he fumbled with his keys and turned on the ignition. Her breezy voice was as cold as the wind, "Why did you run away at the hospital? You will talk to me here but not there?"

Hospital? Donatello's mind raced and wouldn't stop until he remembered the wolf Vander. "When the woman died? That was you in there?"

Glass cracked below the door. "Your brother is with the dancer."

Several people shouted in the distance and moved closer to his van. He almost couldn't hear her anymore. "Where? And who are you? Quit leaving me in the dark! I'm always in the dark!"

"Five blocks down on your right. Freedman Terrace is the name of the place," she instructed and her face tightened. "I am sorry I could not get here sooner. My name is Mei."

"Mei, well -" The teenage boys grew rowdier and threw a rock at his van. "HEY! Quit it!"

"What you gonna do about it, ****?" A messy, raven haired brat jeered while his compadres snorted.

"I'll show you what I'll do!" Don cut off his engine, but he didn't get his chance to shine. Mei already snatched a large piece of glass and lunged it in their direction, stabbing a nearby pole. They scrammed after a harrowing escape with their necks still in tact.

"Punks," she snapped and glowered at their backs. "What an ugly thing to call someone."

Don beamed and turned over the engine. "I could have handled them myself, you know."

"I saved your knuckles from getting smeared with their vile blood," Mei smirked and bowed. "Good luck finding your brother. I will meet you all soon."

For once, he reflected, Liberty Mart gave him an unexpected surprise.

* * *

Into the somber night, his emotions waned as he approached St. Patrick's Cathedral. "The city that never sleeps, everyone needs a place to pray" was its little motto. Leonardo wasn't sure he needed a place to pray, but it was a place he could meditate without conflict. The hospital's chapel was small, and there was too much noise for him. He could meditate anywhere, but he hadn't stepped into St. Patrick's for a long time. He didn't feel guilty or wasn't a dreadful 'sinner'. The massive cathedral allowed him shelter and a moment's peace. Quite a few moments of peace, actually. It was beautiful at Christmas time, too.

The choir had departed from the pulpit, and people scattered out the doors. Many had sullen faces, he noticed, even the children, and it was a dark contrast to the sparkling, happy decorations. Gliding through such a huge space, a person could feel their own presence, like tiny floating mirrors. An ethereal atmosphere, St. Patrick's was the train stop to another side: wherever and whatever the Other Side might be.

Slipping to a pew on the far left side, Leonardo collected his jumbled thoughts and dipped into the silence. From there, he journeyed long and deep into his morals and commitments. He hadn't killed in years, aside from a rabid dog and even that stung his heart. From his early years to mid teens, his life was colored in violence: rogue ninjas, organized crime, mob bosses, extraterrestrial threats, and his own kind's wicked errors. His brothers didn't want to join society and especially cared not for living normal lives; why change something that works, they often griped. Many occasions, he wondered if he ever did the right thing. Questions, questions. All through life, nothing but questions and very few answers. Magic crystal balls couldn't even predict a person's free will and choice. If he decided the same thing tomorrow, would it still be the same outcome?

...would he remain the same person he was now?

"Mister Hamato?" A sleek male voice approached Leonardo's area. It was a voice that meant well but sadly had annoyed him in the past. He jokingly compared the acquaintance to a summer fly. The ebony-skinned man's form appeared as quick as lightning with genuine concern.

"Deacon Stockman, hello." The greeting was slightly forced, but Leonardo avoided making enemies as much as possible. "Merry Christmas."

"And a holy one to you, Leonardo Hamato. We have been missing you here."

Deacon Baxter Stockman, with a look of fire and ice, tented his fingers as he spoke, summoning heavy passion to his words. Bold, daring, and cunning, Deacon Stockman had been with St. Patrick's for years but was new blood to the church, compared to the elders. The well-dressed and articulate man was no threat, Leonardo realized after some time but felt there was a hidden agenda behind the mask. Stockman was a difficult man to read and an even more difficult to deflect.

The young turtle chalked it up to paranoia, a familiar disturbance, and eventually humored the Deacon. The conversations were always meaty and interesting.

"My family keeps me busy, Deacon. I was lucky enough to have Christmas off," he chuckled and loosened his stiff posture. A long, treacherous journey awaited him, and he could use a stress-buster such as debating with Stockman. Leonardo knew it was coming, rustling in the bushes and growling in its throat.

"Have you been studying passages? Those help me in my darkest times. A lady and I were just discussing 2nd Chronicles 16, 9 yesterday." Deacon cleared this throat and proceeded gently, "For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him-"

Both men finished, "In this you have done foolishly; therefore from now on, you shall have wars."

Two church members shuffled out of the pews and quietly left as the Deacon and Leonardo locked resolute glances.

"You have been reading your Book, I see, Mr. Hamato."

"No, Deacon," his steel memory captured the moment, "that's one of your favorite verses."

His fingers tightened around his knuckles and his head curved, "And a fine one to live by. The Lord knows there is trouble in your heart. Would you give yourself to Him tonight?"

"If I did, would he avenge the blood spilled? Could I trust that my soul will be eased, Deacon?"

The river of warm honey stalled momentarily. His dusky orbs flickered with wisdom, "Isaiah 41,10."

"Verses won't help me when my enemy dives for the kill."

"They're not for memorizing," the preacher kindly advised. "You take the knowledge and apply it to your life, to everything."

Leonardo nodded and rose to his feet. He stood almost eye level to the Deacon. "His righteous right hand will work _through_ me. That's what I believe. I take matters into these hands," he levitated his palms, "and I came here for peace. Not judgment."

"I am not judging you. That is not my duty."

"You gave me something to think on, Deacon," he bowed and dug in his gloves. "Now I leave you with Psalm 18, verses 32 through 34. And sometime, let's discuss _my_ beliefs. I did my homework. Now you do yours."

Baxter Stockman acknowledged his acquaintance and as Leonardo was pushing through the bronze doors, his words left a trail of questions for the wise holy man. He chanted a small prayer and

flawlessly imparted the biblical verses, "the God who equipped me with strength and made my way blameless. He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze."

He didn't know when he would see the boy again. "Godspeed, Leonardo Hamato, and I'll be waiting."

"Is that a fish, Um-chan?"

The young amber-eyed fox responded absently, "Man reading newspaper. I am busy."

"You are very skilled with origami, Um-chan." The visitor knew the island's Japanese tongue; it was a little broken and had a funny accent but understandable.

* * *

"Stop calling me Um-chan. You do not know me."

The turtle lady was always persistent, and annoying. She appeared out of thin air when the sun made its rare appearance to their foggy mountainous island. Humidity fueled the environment's appetite, especially during that particular summer, and it was foolish to be anywhere other than a canopy's embrace. Many places to hide but only a handful to truly disappear.

Um-chan. She wanted to vanish and be the very kite at the end of the string on a windy day. Far, far away from the filthy hands.

"Why do you say that to a friend? I have never hurt you," the older turtle lady smoothly protested. Um-chan didn't know the lady's age, but she was taller and her eyes were smaller, like her mother's. "Would you like it if I called you Umeko then?"

The fox child breathed through her nose and focused heavily on her project.

Rich chocolate eyes burned deep into the child's back, but the visitor anchored patience. "You called me Chi last time. I like that name."

She could no longer concentrate on her task. Umeko sighed and laid eyes upon her daily visitor: the usual pretty green flesh, well-toned body, glamorous black dresses, and a fearless smile. Chi couldn't be from the island; only Umeko and her kind resided there. "What is your business with me, She-Turtle?" Father's tongue and wit resided in her and was the only part of her heritage she was proud to confess.

Chi's eyes darkened. "You called to me, child. I am here."

"I never called you! I do not know who you are!" She slammed her fist on the table and crushed her origami. All of that labor was ruined in a split second. "Father will be home soon and I need to wash." Her fingers weaved around the paper and discarded it nearby. "He will be angry if he knows I have been fooling around."

"I will not allow," Chi whispered but Umeko's sensitive ears cringed at the volume, "any harm on you, Umeko. When you need me, I am here."

_Any harm, Chi said. My father's friend inflicted the physical, and my father, with his swollen gray eyes, balanced the hate. I thought I was a bad child and worked hard to be better, but no matter how many origami I crafted or dishes I prepared, the pain would always balloon. As she promised, Chi was always there beside me; she encouraged and strengthened me. I molded into a warrior by age 15, and the Friend dare not touch me ever again, for he lost his trusted right hand in a criminal spree. _

_Father was a bigger problem. He frightened and intimidated me; I could never stand my ground against him. When I did, the consequences took weeks to heal._

_By age 18, I deserted the island and everything I've ever known. It was swallowed in its own nebulous fortress as I drifted away from the terror. I never heard from Chi again. She did her job and did it well. I was strong and resilient. Life outside the island was as difficult as I imagined, and I've always been a stubborn, cold woman. _

"Size nine, miss?" A store clerk's pleasant voice stirred Umeko's reflections. The shoe store was in the middle of closing procedures, but Umeko was persistent about wanting her shoes. Lisa always reprimanded her for having a cold demeanor, but Umeko didn't have anything worth saying to strangers besides what she needed or wanted. Cut the chit-chat and move along.

Lisa was her only friend now. The simple, beautiful, and scatter-brained Lisa. She was more familiar with citizens. The little butterfly.

"Miss?" The store clerk grew impatient.

Umeko stiffly nodded. "Yes. Nine."

Brown curls bounced with relief. "I know a pair just right for you! I'll be back!" And she was gone in no time.

"Please," Umeko finished, regardless if the store clerk wasn't around to hear it. Lisa said to say please often, Umeko reminded herself. In many ways, Lisa was similar to Chi: mannerisms and smiles. Both had nice smiles that didn't hide something deceitful, and both were equally pretty. Umeko never thought to doll herself up; Lisa did every day. Did Chi ever do the same thing? She never seem to be...

As the store clerk returned, Umeko hit a mental block. She didn't even hear the clerk ramble on about the shoes, and she automatically slipped on the pair without a fuss. The store employees scuffled around the shop, but it was all quiet to Umeko. She realized something that never hit her before, in all the years of knowing Chi.

She never aged. She looked the same when Umeko was 8 years old and ten years later, nothing was different. Chi only ever appeared to her in private, never in public, and no other persons ever talked about seeing a different humanoid on the island, something that would have obviously caused controversy. Why didn't she ever notice this? Was Chi a... fragment of her imagination? A jungle spirit? A lost ghost?

"...They fit snug then? Good. They look great on you!"

Umeko walked to the counter in a daze and paid for her purchase without saying anything more. She felt the clerks' rush her out of the store and snap the locks behind her. The frosty air brought her halfway back to the realm of reality as it ruffled over her woolly face and navy-blue parka. She watched the lights die in the store, abandoning her on the darkened street. The night peaked and the working-day citizens were falling asleep in their warm beds; the other half were coming alive and shifting through their doors.

She wasn't afraid of the night and what it brought to her. Night-time strangers were more like her and reminded her of the better days on the island.

Tonight was the best night to try her new shoes. After a better look at them, the black ankle snow boots were quite durable and comfortable. Lisa would say that they matched the arctic parka and shoot her "good eye, WildKat", even though Umeko loathed the nickname, but it was slowly growing on her.

Maybe because, as she wiggled her toes in the boots, the nickname fit her as snug as the footwear. She had been a hellcat and not thinking clearly. If Lisa would take her back, she would be a better friend to Lisa and even go check on the turtle lady. Umeko left a note with the turtle lady's comatose body behind a safe house. It was the quickest place Umeko could choose before disappearing.

_Turtle lady? I wonder if she knows anything about Chi, or even if she's related to Chi. I could ask her later if she is not too angry with me. I really went easy on her._

Thick shopping bags brushed along her clothes, and during her stroll, she remembered her petite shopping spree a few hours earlier. The golden hoop earrings immediately caught her eye, but she had to wrestle with another woman for them. Last ones in the store, very popular, and apparently were important enough to ram a knee in another's stomach. Umeko was highly skilled and won her earrings in a hitch without the employees ever knowing what transpired. After paying, they might have found Umeko's dash out the front door a little suspicious, however. She halted in front of an unmanned car and used the window as a mirror. She was proud of herself for picking out the perfect earrings for her alerted ears. Independent shopping and selecting was a nice feeling. On her next adventure, the WildKat dabbled in a clothing store. She wasn't confident there and the store employee gawked at Umeko like she would burst into flames. The language barrier was another hurdle to cross, and three employees later, a beautiful young feline Non lunged several dresses and a cascade of positive comments to Umeko: slender, curvy, and mysterious body. Umeko never considered herself any of those traits. Within minutes, all of the female employees were gushing over Umeko and played dress-up on her. It was intimidating and almost insulting, if Umeko hadn't been so strongly overwhelmed first. An hour later, Umeko was wearing a crimson and black floral rosette dress with a ruffle collar and had a bag full of other choices. Her life savings was almost drained, but she strangely had a good time. And again, all by herself, too.

The subway doors greeted her back to the present. She always wondered why other women fussed over shopping and clothes and why they felt better afterward. It was the experience and mingling with other people that made Umeko smile by the time the train doors closed and coasted on its track.

She chose a seat close to the door and closely guarded her merchandise. A cold wave nipped at her face; it was very familiar to her. Nearby eyes were glued to her form. The haunting eyes of a predator. She had been on both sides of the fence: the rabbit and the coyote, and neither one was a blessing. The fearful, cautious rabbit: growing up on the island and wishing for the sun; the coyote who hadn't eaten in days and had adrenaline blazing in its eyes: life after the island. The sinking feeling consumed her smile and the treats. Umeko had no choice but to face her coyote soon.

She was afraid of this night and what it was about to bring to her.


	44. Chapter 40 :: The Gravemarker

_Synopsis: Donatello meets a new friend, Mei, while taking a nightly stroll to the store._

_Searching for answers, Leonardo visits a church and runs into an old friend, a priest named Stockman._

_And finally, Umeko enjoys herself on a shopping spree, reviving childhood memories and giving us a sneak peek into her past. Her good time is short-lived when she feels a strong presence on the train to nowhere._

_Beta readers/helpers: Alex Hamato and MutantRebel._

* * *

Gold and gray lamps kindled the chilly, late night subway. Strangers drifted and parked like wax figures, dull and hard.

She didn't look at him; he didn't even glance at her, but he knew every motion and step she made. She wasn't going anywhere without him, and the leash was tight enough to burn his neck. Before the night was over, the severed leash would join in a pile of stagnant flesh. Wherever the city and his trusted blades, whenever needed, would take him, he would go.

The colder the air dropped, the more it frosted her emotions. By the time the third stop ended, she gracefully removed her earrings and presented them to a random woman and her child. They looked hungry for financial freedom and a cup of bliss. Umeko leaked a stiff smile, nodded, and stood on her feet, in those pretty shoes. She curled her toes and padded the train floor. They were solid boots, she attested, and she knew that they would serve her well. It felt like a night of restitution and a moment to hold until fingers bled.

She was going nowhere yet would be everywhere before the dawn was born.

The train slowly emptied and whistled through the underground network. Their hearts beat together, rushed but steady, and blood snaked as quickly through their veins as the tunnels in the windows. Time was slipping away as their drives heightened and their flesh stung.

Her boots and parka suddenly swallowed her, as if her body shrunk. As a child, Umeko recited short poems and songs during times of adversity, huddling and shrinking herself. She wasn't frightened but, rather, sad that a rare good night was about to be ruined. Quickly, she realized it was all her fault, anyways; the consequences boomeranged and have now dissipated on the train. Regardless, she mumbled the first poem that glided through her senses, and in her native tongue.

"The wind won't hear you tonight," the coyote, Leonardo, drummed with the train's movement. "You should have listened to the sunflowers."

He knew her language, and it boiled her frigid wall. Should she give him the pleasure of her words?

But the coyote slithered closer, his voice piercing her ears. "Kitsune, I will give you a chance at redemption."

Umeko, as spirited as the rabbit, cemented in her pretty boots and no longer felt small. Yes, she was at fault and regret was soiled on her hands, but she had a mission and a promise to fulfill. That would never change, no matter how intimidating her predator appeared or the chances they gave. She landed a sharp look in his direction and got a full glimpse of his frame: a dark trench coat, heavy boots, and a weathered, forceful expression. He was definitely going to be a match for her.

When he strung together a series of eloquent words in their discourse, an all-too familiar impression hit her: he sounded like Father. Her father, and the man who crushed her childhood; the weather wasn't as cold as the realization. The little rabbit saw her demon standing in the coyote's spot, spewing words of life, mistakes, and forgiveness.

How dare he; how dare that filthy mouth share any wisdom in her presence. It was the jungle all over again: the hot air, suffocating breaths, and obscurity beyond the front line. Naturally, she seized and dipped her ears, crunched her molars, and lowered her sandy pupils. Nothing was going to hold her back from a glorious battle. The coyote and her Father will taste her blood.

The WildKat truly slipped into a land of delusion and panic. Leonardo dismissed all attempts to reach her.

The lights flickered and departed. When they revived, two bodies collided with bravery and purpose. As hands swerved and legs jolted, each realized the other was a truly skilled warrior. It wasn't going to be a clean break and run. The coyote was impressed that his rabbit could hold her own and would make him work for his kill. It electrified his dormant senses and connected his mind to his body once again. Hard laborious work sharpened the edges of his solid dedication and training. He wanted a worthy opponent, and Leonardo was eager to see the night's outcome.

The rumble ceased once the subway reached another stop and passengers boarded. Their quickened breaths and dangerous eyes drew a few rogue looks from strangers, but as soon as the final person entered the train, a hot headed Umeko dashed through the closing doors and paused for her opponent.

She didn't have to wait very long; he escaped at the last possible moment. The train edged away, and their ghostly, fierce bodies diffused through the frozen Manhattan grounds. It was important not to draw attention as she led him to a remodeled church. Blasts of chilly air gushed around the debris and hummed through the nearby cemetery. Umeko, the angry rabbit, hammered through the construction, catapulting wood shards into the air and scrapping fur and skin off her hands and arms. She was getting clumsier and louder with each passing second, and he used it to his advantage. They pushed into the cemetery, skipping off large headstones and feeding off the other's nocturnal energy. Leonardo barely had a scratch until Umeko slipped off a tombstone and sent a vase of roses orbiting in his direction. In a flash, he snatched it, but a thorn sliced his cheek and ached like a paper cut. He only had a second to make sure the vase was safe before she savagely tried clawing him. The cemetery wasn't the place for a fight, he derived, and it was throwing him off the pursuit. His foot connected to her back, pushing Umeko, and her scorching head smashed into a frigid tombstone. When she didn't move for a minute, he reunited the vase to its proper location.

It was the perfect opportunity to leave the cemetery. She wasn't anywhere near mortally wounded and would wake soon. He walked through the gates and paused for his opponent. The wind moaned and advanced, hammering crystals into his face and eyes.

Both of the storms had finally arrived.

* * *

"Ms. Lisa?" a peculiar feminine voice buzzed two doors away. The lizard lady's head was bursting less at the seams now so she turned towards the call. She didn't recognize the blonde woman at first. "Lisa! Sorry! I know it's late, but Uncle Dovie showed me old family videos." The woman stepped closer, her golden layered strands bouncing with her heels.

Lisa squinted through her puffy eyes; when it clicked, she smiled big. "Joi! Hello!" They shook hands. "I'm so glad you came to see him. He has the roughest time around the holidays, right?"

Joi's sparkly emerald eyes dimmed momentarily. "Yeah, but he's getting better. We got through pictures and some videos without a single tear tonight. He finally fell asleep on the couch, and I slipped out while I could." Her small laugh squeaked with a quick scrap from her shoe. "You look a little..."

Lisa waved a modest hand. "Bad night, but it's okay now. Mr. Dover talks about you all the time. He says you landed a fancy new job." She channeled the last bit of positive energy that she could in light of the bleak situation back at her apartment. "Joi Reynard, the secretary to newest kid on the block, Nicholas H. Mason! You're going places with that man."

The ever humble Miss Reynard gushed, fiddling with her light tan satchel. She stood at eye length with Lisa and was one of the hardest working people Lisa knew. Despite clocking in overtime hours during Mr. Mason's campaign and various other commitments, her cheeks were always red, dimples glowing, not a strand of hair out of place, simply dressed, and a pleasant attitude. Without fail, Joi made time to visit her "uncle" Dover, the man who helped raise her in their native state, Florida. The two were the cutest pair to see with Joi's plump giggles blending with Mr. Dover's wild tales marinated in his croaky voice. Their laughter was contagious, even today for grumpy old Lisa.

"Noooo, I like what he's bringing to the table and offering to every citizen. He has more guts and more political know-how than me," Joi said with a gleam in her eye. "I'm just so grateful for everything he's done for me. Dovie's pension checks are getting smaller and more sporadic, and the state won't help him, but!" Her keys and charm bracelets jingled, and she smiled warmly, "Things will get better! They always do. I'm going to help everyone, human and Non, through Mr. Mason. I hope you don't mind that I've kind of babbled about you and my other friends to Mr. Mason. We usually have some downtime to chat, and you know how I am. I like to talk about things that make me happy. I haven't said too much! Please don't misunderstand. Not many employers are ever like him, and he's always so interested in what I have to say. I feel like we have a solid professional relationship."

Friend? For Lisa, Joi's kind words lifted the dark veil off the evening's mood.

A cell phone alarm beeped in Joi's purse, and she frantically pulled it out of her satchel, checking the phone. "Ooh! It's my bedtime now. I must look like a geek for setting alarms for EVERYthing in my day, but otherwise, I would forget to eat or sleep sometimes!" Another silly giggle and she dropped the phone back in her purse. "Before I whisk off, Uncle Dovie talks so kindly about you, and he enjoys every minute of your presence. That's pretty big coming from a guy like him! Good night, Lisa!"

"You too, Miss Reynard. Let me walk you to your cab."

The rest of the short walk through the lobby and front doors was silent, except for another chirpy goodbye from Joi before her cab disappeared into the night. The cold caught up with Lisa, and she bundled herself as she slipped back into the lobby. She couldn't remember where she was heading before Joi called out to her. Oh, well. It wasn't important then, she dismissed.

Back in her apartment, all of the lights were off except for a corner lamp, bursting out as much light as it possibly could. Right above her head was Mr. Dover's abode and she wondered if he was still snoozing in his chair or if he finally made it to the bed. Such a sweet old man. It was a shocking revelation when she found out that he used to have quite a nasty disregard for Non-humans and that the sweet light in his wife's soul changed him over their married years. A person wouldn't know about his past looking at him now. His wall was decorated with photos of all kinds of friends and acquaintances, all shapes, sizes, and color. His wife must have been an extraordinary woman to change him from one side of the coin to the other. It made her smile, but as soon as she turned to the darker side of the room, looking straight at her bed where Michelangelo was sleeping, Lisa swallowed one of the many lumps idling in her throat.

She failed Umeko, failed Michelangelo, failed her employer for not showing up to work, failed at a potential relationship with a nice man like Raphael, failed at being friends with anybody, and failed herself overall. So many false starts, changes, and dreams. Moving to New York didn't erase everything; she only carried the load everywhere. Her dirty laundry. It was time to finally purge herself of the ugly and see the light that Mister Dover had seen. If he could do it, she could, too.

She heard a stir from the bedroom and prepared two cups of coffee. The "Mona Lisa" wasn't waiting until the new year to start anew; it was going to happen as quickly as she could stir the cream and slink back into the bedroom.

* * *

The night hastened with the wings of a storm angrily pushing through a city of thick skin. Some hunkered down, bolted themselves inside, and some braced for a marvelous disaster. Others had no choice but to face it all and pray for either a quick death or a quick miracle.

No matter, the coyote's mask dissolved and brought forth the true man, through wind or rain or snow, and that what needs to be done will be conquered. It was already here. The storm was their magnificent backdrop. His prey was awake and chasing him through a screen of frustration. In the confines of a sealed amusement park, the meat would be cut from the bone, and the night could finally rest. Come, woman; come.

The cold snap of the metal gate and sidings chewed through his gloves and entrance chains rattled and creaked as his form disappeared through the park. He hid behind the first booth and listened for her to approach the gate. Her rage had calmed down through her dash across the Manhattan grounds, and she tried to be sneaky. She almost succeeded.

-If it hadn't been for the chain rattling.

The rabbit blinked as the frost swept across her tepid face. It was getting dreadfully frigid, and her fear caught back up with her. She realized that her head wasn't firing on all cylinders, from the tombstone crash, but Umeko wasn't going to die by his hands. If he wanted to play hide and seek in a dark place, she would push him out of it and strip him of his smugness. Reminded her too much of him... and it cooked her inside. Nothing good ever came from thinking about that terrible life.

Decorated in spotty light from outside poles, the closed park danced in the growing wind, its swings moaning, doors creaking, and the huge eyes of various characters gawking and almost pleading for the storm to pass. The ground stiffened, the cold snap crawling far into the concrete and wrapping its sharp claws around the park's many dormant objects. Everything was now in the storm's wintery clutches.

As graceful as a ballerina, Umeko drifted through the square, fading in and out of the piercing light, and flinching slightly at the quickest distraction. Her ears flicked, and she shivered from the weather; the parka was a decent block but the storm's teeth dug deeper and deeper. This fight needed to see an end, and soon before she froze to death.

Unfortunately, her lovely little snow boots didn't have the best traction and scrapped the concrete a little too much. When his attack boomed behind her, she dropped but it was a close call and a fast save; he was too damn rapid, however, and nailed a swift kick in her gut. All of the wind in the world around her and she couldn't inhale any of it from the intense pain. He had some power behind him, and concrete boots. Damn good boots, she croaked, and desperately shielded her body from further assaults; however, her body was lifted and her back slammed into a nearby wall. He blocked every inch of her body from moving and shoved his forearm into her throat.

Even through her pain, she finally got a glimpse of his face in the faint glow. A face that wanted her life; a familiar face.

"Who do you work under, kitsune?" his growl penetrated the air and was as threatening as the blizzard.

She croaked, "He is not… dead.."

The arm shoved a little more. "We're getting ahead of ourselves. Answer one question at a time."

"Mei," Umeko swallowed, gasped furiously, "Shui."

"Mei Shui?" Annoyance sharpened his tone, "That doesn't even sound right!"

"That is all I know, turtle!" she hissed, jarring loose a free hand and pressed it on his forehead. She had no idea what she was doing, but something sparked in her chest.

Leonardo felt nothing but the blistering cold until her furry hand landed on his skin. The sensation mirrored the scorching environment from the steel mill, like he was standing right on it. He yelped and leaped from the attack but Umeko didn't get the blazing head start she wished for and Leonardo had her dead in his sight. All he needed to do was avoid those lethal paws of hers.

The storm consumed them, and she couldn't see his form holding her down on the biting ground. Umeko could smell sizzling flesh from his wound and it made her stomach flop. She didn't have the time to be sick, however, when his gloved hands sheathed her neck and his breath grazed her face.

Menacing, his words made her shiver more. "Nice coat and boots. Did you hurt anyone for them? Killed them? Do you know what's it like to work hard and pay with your own blood and sweat?"

She thought it good to keep quiet. He had her entire body pinned to the ground. No getting loose out of this one.

"I used to snap necks like yours, every day of my life," his revelation drowned the gale, "and I never blinked an eye when it came to those who, like you, messed with my family and friends. When I fight, it's serious, and I intend on walking away from here."

His hold around her neck didn't budge. It remained tight and firm.

"Slowly, the world changed, and then it exploded into something new. Walking with the humans and interacting with them. It wasn't something I took lightly. I've never taken anything lightly."

He shuffled and lifted his head, looking straight into her eyes. "Final words, kitsune. Pray hard."

A sliver of light beamed in his eyes, and she saw them: a shade of blue-gray staring dead at her. The ice from the sky stung her eyes but she recognized them anywhere and it melted her under his grip.

In her Japanese tongue, she whispered, "Father…. Please…"

He didn't flinch.

"I accept…"

His grip squeezed more; his eyes darkened.

"….my death."

No longer struggling, Umeko laid perfectly still and closed her eyes. Her body felt like it was free falling in her mind, revisiting the tropical island, basking in the rare sun, tasting luscious fruit, and splashing through the rivers, and dreaming of following the waters to the very ends of the world. All were very comforting to her in this pivotal moment.

But upon awakening, she peered into the Gray, and something changed. Just like he mentioned before her death sentence – that the world slowly transformed and then molded into something new. The world in his facial expression converted her sorrow. She didn't know what would happen next. Her body was completely dangling on the edge.

His hands loosened, and the coyote slithered off the rabbit. She was a dripping mess and frozen to the brim, inside and out. She could barely see him through the snow, and all of her senses were pleading with her to escape while possible. No questions, Umeko. Just run!

"Reform," his voice trickled out of the darkness, "or die."

Those simple words haunted her soul as she made a break for it, the chain rattling and reaching the coyote's sensitive ears.

* * *

Morning's precious break was much anticipated from the city that braved a stormy night. Ice crystals and snow glistened, and children's laughter echoed through the streets, enjoying soft, powdery goodness. Clouds still hung and loomed in the air but the sun was going to seize the day, regardless.

It was definitely a coffee morning, Donatello dryly speculated, and folded a section of the paper just to smack a snoozing Abigail on the head. "Wake up, birdy. We have a mission this morning."

"Mrff," the tween moaned and blinked.

Donatello set a cup of java on the table beside her. "Couch thief, time to rise and shine. Drink up; we're heading out." She mumbled a string of German phrases to which he coolly replied, "I know you are but what am I?"

She rolled back over and covered her head with the rainbow blanket. That garnered another smack from a thicker wad of newspaper.

Mid-morning, Lisa ripped herself away from the beautiful view outside her window and tended to her leg wound. "That'll leave a nasty scar," she grumbled, un-wrapping the bandage, applying medication, and re-wrapping the wound. She stood inside her bathroom and idly checked her messy hair.

"I look like Frankenstein on a binge night."

A soft voice replied, "But a pretty one at least."

"Hello," she tiredly smiled at Michelangelo and limped over to his bedside, taking her seat. "Did you sleep okay? You know, considering…"

His pale green face still pushed through a grin. "Considering…"

They enjoyed a moment of silence before something shattered in the kitchen. Lisa hobbled to the bedroom door and stopped short of an unenthusiastic green giant blocking her way.

"Apologies for ruining your kitchen, no thanks to SOMEONE!" Donatello screeched behind him, "But you have a person dear to me and I think you've already used up your free turns. You can hand him over politely or—"

"Take him," she snapped, stepping back.

"—or I can just do this the hard way- uh. What?"

She pointed to Mike on the bed. "Take him. You won't get any problems out of me."

Abigail squeezed between Donatello and the door frame. "Yeah! Don't mess with the Green Team, woman!"

"Get out of it!" Don boomed and shoved Abby back with his right boot. "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard.." He turned back to Lisa and leaned on his Bo. "No problem at all? Really? I was hoping for a little struggle," he teased, flashing a mocking grin in Mike's direction. The bed-ridden brother gave a weak thumbs-up.


	45. Chapter 41 :: The Rolling Tide

_Synopsis: The personal battle between Leonardo and Umeko came to a dramatic close with Umeko's life being spared. It's unclear at the moment how much it all affected Leonardo._

_Lisa crosses paths with Mr. Dover's niece, Joi Reynard, a bubbly and energetic assistant to the new political candidate, Nicholas Hunter Mason. Joi highly regards Mason and hopes to do some good in the city with his help. Mr. Dover is one of Lisa's quirky neighbors in their apartment building along with Hampton, the rich kid who chooses to live under his means._

_Michelangelo comes out of his slumber and just in time to see Donatello and Abby come to his rescue. Lisa is more than willing to give Mike back._

_Beta Readers: Alex Hamato and MutantRebel_

* * *

Lisa limped away from Donatello, holding a crushed look in her eyes. "There's been no harm done to him. He's yours. Go as quickly as you can."

Don walked over to Mike's bedside and flicked on a nearby lamp. "Hey, tiger. You had us a little worried."

Mike squinted from the bright light, but flashed a small grin, "I had this under control. Honest."

"Yeah, you look like sh—" Don glanced over in Abby's direction and chuckled, "You look like poo, Bro. We'll get you home soon and nurse you back to normal." He reached under Mike's shell and lifted him slowly, then shot a wary glance at Lisa. "Have you been feeding him? You might not have been beating him but not feeding him is just as bad!"

"No, I-!"

"Don," Mike squeaked. "Lay off her, dude. I'm fine. Just a little weak, but it's not her fault." He displayed a little difficulty in breathing for a few moments.

Lisa slumped into a corner armchair, exhausted from the small interrogation, and wondering what was going to happen next. She finally met Abby's chocolate, intense eyes from the bedroom door and couldn't decide what to say to the child.

"My mother…" Abby slowly started, squeezing the door frame in her grip, "have you seen her? Alive …?"

Her face darkening, Lisa leaned over and stared hard into the girl's eyes. "Yes… and no. She saved me from a horrible man, but..". She cut her breath as soon as she saw the tears in Abby's eyes. "But she was attacked, and I was pulled away."

Abby frightfully whispered, "And you didn't go back to check on her?"

Lisa looked down at the floor and nodded.

"I have to go find her.." The frantic tween left the door frame and bolted back to the kitchen. "Now!"

"WHOA, Abby!" Don screamed from the room. "Let me get Mike home and we'll—"

She didn't hear the rest of his words; she had to take her mother back home, either injured, crippled, or.. _dead_. Abby was panicking, and she knew deep down that her mother wasn't deceased, but the anxiety ricocheted through her skin. They were always inseparable, always just a phone call or text message away, or in the next room or house. She had promised that she would never leave her mother's side while it was possible.

Before Abby could reach the kitchen window, someone blocked her way, and it wasn't anyone familiar to her. A green lady with a friendly smile donning a silver parka immediately turned from the window and noticed Abby. "Hello. I was enjoying the nice sky today. New York has a lovely sky."

Still highly stressed, Abby checked her surroundings and puffed her chest. "I don't have time to look at silly skies! I have to find my mother! Step aside! I'm about to escape!"

"Mei?" Don and Lisa approached behind Abby, and both gave the other a strange look at their similar outbursts.

"Hello again," Mei relaxed, pulling the zipper down on her parka. "I regret to inform you that I might have lost one of my boots in the street so I am not a crazy person inviting myself in strangers' windows with just one shoe." She giggled and slammed the window.

"Wait there!" Abby flailed and reached over to open the window again, but Mei casually pranced in front of her again.

"Would it help anything if I said your mother is alive and that I can aid you with this complicated matter?"

Nobody argued with Mei's request. She removed the other boot.

"Yes, I am Mei," she bowed, "Hello again, Donatello. But I am not the Mei you know, Alisa. That is a rather long story which I do not have a lot of time to tell. I can give you the high points."

"Are there two Meis?" Lisa leaned on a chair.

"Without sounding even more insane, yes. There are more of us floating around in the time and space, but I honestly do not have the time to explain that part. Research it."

Lisa scoffed, "That's helpful."

"Magic does not always mean the power to find people quickly. It took me so long to find everyone, and I get distracted."

Abby sighed and plopped in the other chair across the table. Mike coughed and gagged from the bedroom, and Don rushed to his side.

"So what happened to my mother? I knew it was a weird idea coming here to the States, and then she kept us here for so long," Abby fussed. "She's lost all sense of reality and responsibility, which is never like her, even when she was off her medication. I'm missing school and we'll be in big trouble when we go back!"

Mei stared at the sink area and then shot back to reality. "Did you know your faucet is leaking?"

"I really don't care.." Lisa grumbled and shuffled her weight in the chair. "Can you answer the girl's question?"

Annoyed by the water dripping, Mei pulled out a wrench from her pocket and tightened the seals. Abby and Lisa impatiently waited for the woman to finish.

"I am Mei Chang," she introduced while checking over the sink one last time. "Taoist, astronomer, alchemist, and-" a couple of grunts from securing the faucet later, "-plumber. I must have peace and quiet."

"Then you're out of luck with this place," Lisa chuckled and cut it short once she caught a dry look from Abby; Lisa cleared her throat. "May I get you some coffee or another leaky faucet or..?"

"Mei," Donatello softly said, emerging with his wounded brother from the bedroom and guided Mike into the third and final chair at the table; Don loyally guarded Mike's back. "Give us what information you can to help our loved ones: Abby and her mother, Lisa here, and then Mike. It has to be all connected, right?"

As Mei twirled the silvery wrench, her audience regarded the way the wrench swam in her hands: she didn't have to look down at them at all. For such a cluster-brained person, Mei seemed to have a handle on situations. It was the classic case of judging a book by its cover. Before answering Don, a thin smile spread across her green face, and the wrench was tucked away in her parka. "You know that everything is connected, Donatello. When we met at the store last night, that was not a coincidence. All of you sitting here and listening to me… we come from different walks of life, but we traveled down the same road at one point, and here we are. Observe."

Abby soaked in the mystical revelation to be discussed and expected a flashy show. The 'knights' of the round table awaited the same thing, but when Mei opened the window and summoned up her lost shoe and placed it on the table, snow and dirt all over the surface, puzzled looks glittered along with the twinkling spell. Lisa poked at the lone boot and shook her head. "I don't need to eat off this table anyways."

Mike broke the awkwardness with a weak chuckle and reached over to rub Abby's tense shoulder. She relaxed a little and stared at the floor.

"I like the rooster upstairs. Animals are afraid of me, however," Mei pouted, dusting the snow and dirt off her boot and flicking most of it on Lisa. "I need all of you to clear your mind and focus on this shoe."

"The tenants here will appreciate you shutting the rooster up," mumbled Lisa, shaking off the leftover snow.

Calmly, Mei selected a small vial from a hip pouch and poured its contents into the boot. "This material object has crossed many miles, many borders, encountered many people and memories. Allow it to meet you and add to its library." A puff of gray smoke slithered from the boot, and three tiny beams of light swiveled from the ankle section, making four complete turns and aiming at each knight. Soon, the radiance vanished, and the knights were left staring at a boot.

Lisa quipped, "That's it?"

"I have what is necessary in order to proceed," Mei chirped and placed the magical object back on her foot.

"I gotta say that's the strangest way I've ever seen magic done," added Mike, rubbing his tired face but feeling more energetic. "If I can remember seeing magic.."

"You have. Many times," Donatello shook one of Mike's shoulders. "Whatever that other sorceress is doing to you, it's killing parts of your brain. I can go back to the lab and—"

"When I was staying with you and your brothers, you all fought over who was going to rub my feet," Mei's cheerful voice chimed over the heated talk, "and I was so delighted to be treated that way. Donatello, you were against magic and argued with me over it all the time. I stayed with your family in the sewer for almost two months. They did keep calling me 'Venus', though. I found that weird."

"Huh?" Mike and Don simultaneously barked. Don countered with a little chuckle, "I would remember meeting someone like you."

"That was part of an experiment that went a little, as you say, cah-cah? I crossed over to Mei Pieh Chi's world, and she crossed over to mine. I admit that it was entirely my fault."

Lisa crossed her arms. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I'm recounting my time in the alternate place and hope to write a book about it. Please be interested in buying it?" Mei fumbled with her boot and stood, dangling her foot in the air. "It will help fund more of my journey. While I was gone, Mei Chi committed a few errors. It seems that runs with our type."

Abby touched the spot where the boot had been on the table and looked up at Mei. "Does the other Mei have anything to do with my mother then? Why is everyone bullying her? Ever since I was little, people have caused trouble and all she does is be a good mother to me. I miss her." She brought her hand back to her lap. "And I hope she misses me. I want to go home and things be normal again."

"And how do we know that you're not deceiving us either?" squeezed in Lisa, a little distressed from seeing the child's anguished face. "Are you going to pull wool over our faces, too?"

The house guest almost looked hurt and stood with her arms stretched out by her side. "Did she repair your faucet? Has she ever apologized for intruding your home?"

Lisa thumped the table with her healthy leg. "Would you start making sense? Is this a cultural difference thing or—"

"Enough!" Don snapped, although it wasn't as powerful as he had hoped; he walked around the table and scooted a chair from the window to the table, extending his hand in the air. "Mei, please sit and clearly explain this to us. I'm sure Lisa here is very grateful that you repaired her plumbing and that you haven't made her float upside down on her head, but we're all very curious as to what you're bringing to this table right now." He waited as she took her seat. "Right here. Thank you."

All eyes were locked on Mei, hoping she would continue, but instead, she grabbed a blue squishy ball out of her pocket and squeezed it. And kept squeezing it.

"Frau Chang," Abby's tender hand pressed on Mei's wrist. "Do you want to talk to us one on one?"

Mei released a huge sigh, relaxing her anxious form and no longer squeezing the ball. "I am a nervous person and was worse with confidence than I am now. Fourteen years ago, several months of hard work and research into alchemy and magic went terribly wrong. I found myself in a different place, different everything. I never intended to go that far."

"Another Mei stepped in my place, and she was as confused as I was. For I was in her shoes, and she was in mine. I was older than she, but only by three years. She easily deceived the Chang family into thinking that nothing had happened. I do not believe she was a bad person, but the choices she made stemmed from intense, misguided emotions."

Mei's hand began squeezing the ball again, as she continued with quickened pace, "When two of the same souls cross, there are prices to pay at the gate, and consequences to face. I stayed with her family, the Hamatos, but I found a way to get back. My story isn't as important as Mei Pieh Chi's, who is extremely linked to you, Abigail. To all of you."

Abby released her hand from Mei's wrist and crossed her legs in anticipation. "Linked..?"

The alchemist smiled and faced the others. "The Mei you see now is merely a ghost, a former shell of her body and power. She has her own purposes and reasons, and I don't know any of them. Upon my return, the path of destruction was wide and deep, and I am not even halfway through the recovery. I want to cut her ties with all of you now before damage is irreversible."

She turned back to Abby. "Like for your mother."

"Mother will never get better?" Abby croaked and unwound her legs. "Never?"

"Not to her old self, child. It is possible to stop the poison before it's too late. That is why I am here. For her, for Lisa, and for Mark."

The knights basked in silence.

"Uh, who?" Don slowly asked.

Mei pointed at Mike across the table. "Mitchell?"

Don calmly shook his head in disapproval.

"Moby?"

Mike chuckled at the guessing game.

"...Meichi?"

Lisa buried her face in one hand, shaking her head solemnly.

"We're thankful that you came to help us, Mei Chang," Don patted her shoulder and genuinely smiled. "So Mei Chi has placed a sort of curse or spell on our loved ones and you're here to help stop it?"

"Correct. A strong, resilient one."

Losing more energy by the moment, Mike leaned on his elbow, cradling his forehead in his palms. "Don..." he tried speaking but it whistled through his lips instead.

Lisa stood from her seat and wobbled towards her bedroom. Nobody protested, and Mike twisted around in time to lose what little stomach contents he had on the kitchen floor. Don scrambled to his side and dragged his gagging brother to the nearest toilet.

Abby sunk lower in her chair and gazed her melancholy eyes on Mei's gloved hands. "So will Mike become like Mother? Losing himself over time?" Her voice caught on the last word, and she didn't peer back at Mei.

"Yes."

"And.." she held back erupting tears, "...it'll never stop? Ever?"

"No, young Becker. There is a way to stop it," Mei smiled through sadness, and her revelation stopped Abby from losing it at the table. "I cannot reverse anything, however. I will require everyone's help."

"You have mine. All the way," the tween jerked and clamped her hand over Mei's on the table.

Humbled by the child's bravery, the elder turtle brushed over Abby's cheek. "Who is Mother to you?"

Abby's tan eyes waned and almost trembled. "Emyrs Becker. Always."

"You hold that to your heart, and you never let it go."

Abigail Becker nodded.

Mei unlocked their grasp. "It will be tested in the future. Keep it solid, and true."

In Lisa's dark bedroom, the injured dancer tried making sense of the events on her disheveled bed. She could hear Mike's retches through the crack in the bathroom door and Don's delicate, helpful words through his brother's illness. So much sadness, so much travesty, her brain railed through a subway of cluttered feelings. Having more people in the apartment, despite the situation, made her miss Umeko, the only person who shared her experiences. Was she out there in the cold? Alone? …..Dead in an alley somewhere? That thought alone opened her eyes to tears: small little balls of chaos dripping down her pretty green skin.

She didn't realize the bathroom's light flooded over her body, and a certain healthy turtle's shadow looming over her. Lisa dried her cheeks and didn't bother looking at Donatello's face.

"Does the offer still stand?" his quiet, stern voice melted through her thoughts.

She sighed, "Yes. I quit. I don't want this anymore. None." She sunk lower into the bed and closed her eyes.

"I can help with that, Lisa." His offer almost glittered brighter than Mei's little puffs of magic. It prompted her to look dead in his face.

"Help?"

She couldn't see much of his face, but she saw his arm reach for his bag. He instructed softly, "I have what I need in here. I was going to use on you anyways."

"I see..." her words died, but a smile crept across her face. She drifted into numbness.

Donatello heard his brother's scuffling behind him. Mike looked a little better but had some serious bags under his eyes. "Oh, man... I don't ever remember being this sick.."

Don caught a woozy Mike before he crashed into the sink. "No, I don't remember either. Mei is going to help us get you feeling better. We..." he paused, then proceeded slowly, "...we can't help Sensei much, but we can help you. I damn well won't let anything else happen to you."

Mike squeezed his tense brother's shoulder and tiredly grinned in response. "Good. Or I'll kick your ass.."

"Can you make it to the living room, bro?"

Mike held on to the door frame and inhaled deeply. "Yeah... I can, but Don?" Weary blue eyes focused on Don's shadowy form.

"Mmm?"

Mike nodded towards the bed. "Go easy on her. Go easy.." And moments later, a cautious Mike trailed out of the room. Don closed the door behind him and sat with Lisa on the bed. He gripped his bag tightly, meditated as he gently took her wrist and retrieved a syringe, and quietly distributed the liquid into her veins.

* * *

His illness, or curse whatever it was, swept in like bold tides; for several quiet moments, Mike felt fine, and then the tide lapped on the beach once again. Dizziness, nausea, displacement, and fatigue viciously attacked him. These symptoms were intense, as severe as he ever felt, and each day was getting worse.

While Mike waited for his brother's return, a lump of instinct swelled in his chest: that feeling of dread. It burned as hot as his approaching fever, and when he thought it all subsided, he opened his mouth and blurted the first idea that came to his mind. "Outside. Trouble," he mumbled to the living room's stale air. A picture flashed through his mind's eye and it repeated every few seconds, stretching longer each time. What was it, what was _it_? His brain had no time to react before the clear, striking image of a blow to Donatello's skull brushed past Mike's eye. His loved one was knocked out cold on the pavement with thugs surrounding him and mutilating the body even more. An icy boulder dropped in Mike's stomach, but the tides rolled smoother and faster. If such a thing was being shown to him, spell or not, he was meant to stop it.

"Mike? Are you okay?" Abby's frail voice appeared through the fog. "Should I get Donatello? You look... pale."

A ragged yet determined Mike stumbled off the couch and to the bedroom door. He locked it and then pointed towards the opened window. "I'm going outside alone. You escape through the window. Now!" He barely noticed that Mei Chang was no longer present in the kitchen, seeing as the wind was blowing through the kitchen window, but he didn't care and snatched a long silver crowbar off the coffee table.

"Mike!" Abby furiously whispered, but her only answer was Mike shutting the door behind him. Anxiety clouded her senses, and by the time Don was beating on the bedroom door, she was almost completely frozen.

"Mike! MIKE! Open this door! What's going on?" She had never heard Don raise his voice before. "ABBY! Open up! Don't make me break it!"

She reached over to touch the knob, but the determined look in Mike's eyes roasted in her memory. Abby tiptoed to the bedroom door and piped, "Mike locked the door. I don't know what's going on... but he told me to escape through the window and then he left."

"Open this door, Abigail." The command in Don's voice frightened her but not as much as Mike's soulful blue eyes.

"I can't climb down the building. Will you help me escape first? That's what he wanted.."

The knob quickly turned from the other side. "This isn't about you, young lady! I need to help my brother!"

"It's what Mike wanted! All of you need to close your lips and listen sometimes!" She blurted without thinking again. Oh, dear. But the damage had been done anyways. "So I'm going to unlock this door and you're going to help me down, right?"

No answer.

"Please?"

She heard a heavy sigh and then a very tired acknowledgment behind the door. "You hide once we land, and stay out of the way. I mean it."

"Yes," Abby accepted and unlocked the door. She expected to be whisked away and through the window, but Don casually emerged, his face a mix of so many emotions that she had never seen. It made her look away from him. They walked to the window together.

* * *

Mei was right: late that morning, the sky was beautiful even after a quick, vicious storm on the previous night. Thankfully, it wasn't as brutal as the experts were predicting, and New York could survive anything. A measly little snowstorm wasn't going to end their life support. And as Mike inhaled slightly fresher air, he smiled down at the measly little group of well-dressed hitmen congregating around a dark SUV. He flirted with the idea of asking if they had pre-scheduled appointments lined up at their local dry cleaners and other catchy one-liners, but they wasted no time greeting and fantastically charging towards him with giant fists, slick bangs, toothy grins, and wide kicks. He was never one to ignore strangers!

Despite a loud booming in his head, his handy crowbar and sleek moves didn't fail him. Eight against one: no big deal! The two short ones that first attacked him were already face down in the snow and ice, feeling the aftermath of green fists imprinted in their cheeks; numbers three and four took a little more elbow and knee work, and he heard a few bone cracks as they landed in the nearby powdery thistles. Number Five jerked out a chain, violently swinging it, and it brushed past Mike, catching a part of his shoulder. The wound throbbed but couldn't overpower the needles of pain stabbing his brain; Number Five swung again, and Mike just wasn't quick enough as the chain slithered around his leg. His upper torso crashed against the railing, and out of desperation, his fingers curled around the frosty bar and firmly cemented Mike for as long as his leg would hold. He could feel his teeth and bones creaking from the torture.

A throaty, forceful voice bellowed in the distance, possibly from the SUV's direction, "Just shoot him already!"

It was a tug of war between Number Five and Mike, and Mike's muscular legs taxed against the fight. After several more brutal moments, the hero finally had to let go. His head smacked against the snowy concrete but most of the force thankfully struck his shell. Number Five, a creepy dark haired attacker, was licking his lips in anticipation as Mike's body trudged down the short steps, closer to Five's lanky body.

"Now, goddamn it!" the demands came again. Mike had a nifty plan of using his spare leg to knock Five's jaw off his face, but Five whisked out of the way before a silver flash almost carved a thick slice in his wrists. "Who the fuck are you, Slick?" Five screeched.

Mike peered through slits, and the gruff voice belonged to a buff, thick Rhinoman in a huge red sweater and torn jeans. Completely opposite attire from the little human men and he was no joke in the least, even with wearing tacky clothes. If Mike didn't get his act together, the Rhino would rip his lungs out and toss it in the Hudson. A very real, dangerous threat so it was time to be serious about the matter.

All attention turned to the 'Slick' fellow, who hovered over Mike's overstressed body and threatened the remaining members with a shiny blade. Mike was highly relieved to know it wasn't Donatello.

"Waste his punkass!" Another dry threat from the Rhinoman. He tossed a cigar on the ground and crushed it into the snow. "I have a dancer that needs to learn her place in 'dis city."

_Lisa...?_ Mike rushed in his mind. _She's unconscious and he'll have his way with her for sure! I can't let him get to her or Donny!_

"Slick sounds pretty cool. Think I'll take it!" the bladed guest beamed and practiced good form holding the sword. "I'm Hampton, I live here, Apartment 14B, and if you're thinking of messing with the beautiful Lisa or the other tenants here, I'll be damned if you do." He grinned. "But, please, be my guest and try. I just bought this sword and would love to test it on any of you."

_Yeah_, Mike mused, _he's Slick, that's for sure_.

Of course, Number Five dripped revenge from a near amputation and dove straight into the fire. Hampton the Slick dodged, used the butt-end of the sword to punch Five in the back, and quickly helped Mike to his feet. "Come on, green guy. You've still got spark left in you!"

Hampton's encouraging words pumped a stream of new energy into Mike's hands. He was ready to fight Numbers Six, Seven, Eight, and Rhino until he had nothing left. It was a shame that he left his nun chucks back home, and the crowbar was nowhere to be found. He could do some decent damage with his limbs, but a weapon would be a lifesaver.

"Here," Hampton announced and placed the sword in Mike's sturdy hands. "I'm not exactly the best person to handle this sword. Break it in for me." Under a garden of bright blonde hair, Hampton's baby face twinkled with excitement. Mike couldn't help but join in the glee and almost wet himself from the miracle.

Sword training... he was a little rusty at first, especially as Numbers Six and Seven got trigger happy and he had to elude bullets, but years of training returned to his solid form quickly. Distinct swings later, Six bailed from the scene, and Seven dared to go hand-to-hand combat, and Mike bounced his fist into Seven's face like a yo-yo, knocking him out cold.

For a flicker of a minute, Mike noticed Hampton had disappeared, but he didn't have much time to speculate because Number Eight and Rhinoman loomed over the shorter turtle. Eight was around the same size as Rhino, sporting a flashy gold coat and huge rings around each finger, like mini planets. Mike was a little shaky, but he calmed his mind before a shock wave of attacks pummeled on him. They were furious and quick for their size, and with one leg almost out of commission, his offenses were slower. Eight screamed as the sword cleaved through his clothes and dashed through his arm; he leaned on the SUV's hood and bawled like a little girl on a playground. The screeches suddenly became deafening and then halted.

Mike expected to see Hampton back, possibly with another crazy weapon that an ordinary citizen wouldn't have, but it was Donatello. And Mike's heart sunk fast.

Don cracked Eight's kneecaps with his staff and used the old fist-in-the-face routine to push the Beefblock on the ground. He immediately rushed to his brother's side, as he had been doing since the rescue, and gawked at the Rhinoman. "I remember you! The troublemaker at the bar on Thanksgiving!"

Mike blocked Don from the enemy. "You fight me, heavyweight. Just me."

"Like fucking FLIES!" Rhinoman barked, taking a cheap shot at Mike's mug but missed. "Stay out of our business!"

"Mike, move!" viciously whispered Donatello, elbowing his stubborn brother. "A few swings and I can send his eyeballs rolling in the snow!"

The sword caught the sun's rays and bounced off Mike's lively eyes. "I won't let him touch anyone here today, especially you, Don. I got this. Move out of our way."

"Damn it, Mike, just -"

"Fucking do as I say, Donatello Hamato!" his cries rang through the street. "It's what I want! Close your damn lips and listen sometimes! I'm not your defenseless brother!" He thrust his shell into Don, shoving him down the pavement, and then swung heroically at Rhino. "I can handle my OWN!" Cut, crack, and blazing pierces into the Rhino's thick clothes and skin. Mike lost all sense of himself as he kicked, gutted, and collided into the gray mass form. "I won't let him die! Do you fucking hear me?" Over and over again until his throat seared.

Rhino disarmed Mike, and the blade swirled through the air, jabbing into the snow with droplets of blood falling into it. Mike and Rhinoman wrestled across the street, pounding each other's heads into the SUV and other parked vehicles, inviting scattered onlookers, and making spots of red mess in patches of dirty snow. Mike gained the upper hand and hovered the Rhinoman on the ground, crunching his fists one after the other in a mad rage.

"Get him off me! GET HIM OFF!" Rhinoman begged through bubbles of spit and blood. Don reached behind Mike and dragged him off the Rhino's carcass.

"You touch them again and I'll kill you! I'll tear you down to nothing but crumbs, motherfucker!" A bridge of expletives rapidly left Mike's tongue even as he was pulled away. Rhinoman limped from the ground and dizzily trailed back to the SUV. He revved up the engine and motored away.

"Holy crap! He just ran over that big guy!" Hampton gasped and skidded on the street, overlooking the crimson destruction and comatose bodies on the pavement. He raced back to his new acquaintances. "Are you guys … okay?"

"Mike... sssssh," Don cuddled and rocked his stressed brother. "It's all over. It's all over."

"You're a- alive," Mike strung together normal speech. He latched on to Don's sleeve tightly. "Abby?"

"She's okay. She's hiding, like I asked her to do."

The raging turtle calmed down, releasing his tight hold on Don's sleeve. "Y- yeah. I had to... I had to..." Mike mouthed more sentences but Don couldn't understand them. They entwined as hard as they ever could remember. Mike would not let his relative go.

Trembling, Don sighed and turned to Hampton. "Hey, kid.. can you do us a.. a favor?" he swallowed and collected his thoughts. "We need to lose these people and get to a manhole. It's not a good idea if we stay here."

Hampton nodded and dashed in the other direction, sweeping powder off the street in hopes of finding the jackpot.

Don whispered in Mike's ear, "Vanish, like old times, Mike."

"Mikey." He lifted to his feet, sniffling and regaining some composure, "I'm okay. It's what I needed."

A flushed Hampton skidded back to the brothers and happily announced between quick breaths, "Got one. Just a couple of buildings over!"

"Thanks, kid," Don shook his hand. "Thanks a lot."

Mikey added, his eyes half way shut momentarily, "You better get back inside, too.."

Hampton inhaled and looked back at the bodies like a lord over his kingdom, "I can deal, fellows. My girl is on the way and we live for this sort of excitement. Nons like you don't need any more trouble." Hampton walked passed them, waving.

"Hey, how can we repay you then?" Don shouted over Mikey's head.

Hampton combed his silky fingers through his blonde hair, smiled, and waved in the other direction, signaling at someone. Abby waddled across the snow and reunited with the Hamatos. Soon, Don heard the sirens in the distance, and with Abby taking Mikey's other side to help out, the group made a break for it.

The cops arrived as the manhole cover shut, and Hampton proudly stood by his battle sword.


	46. Chapter 42 :: Miss Darling's Web

_Synopsis: Meeting Mei Chang was a little hair-brained for Donatello, Lisa, Michelangelo, and Abigail, but they learned a great deal of information from the short encounter. To keep Lisa out of trouble (and out of their way), Donatello executed his original plan and sedated her._

_Michelangelo's illness returns in a massive wave, and he flips out during what he considered a "vision" of Donatello getting killed. It provoked Mikey enough to face a group of hitmen and the Rhinoman alone. By the end of the fight, it seemed like the old Mikey had returned._

Beta Readers: Alex Hamato and MutantRebel; the character Shannon Darling belongs to Connie Nervegas. You can read more about Shannon in Connie's "The Hamato Overture".

* * *

She hadn't been able to sleep much, and her face was showing wear. Not that it didn't have any wear on it, being that she was over forty years old, but bags under the eyes don't help anything.

Neither did a house full of hungry people, and she was really the only _good_ cook.

Raphael munched on a piece of greasy bacon, stolen from Red's plate. He was in and out, as usual, and frankly, it got on her nerves.

"Em, you feeling better this morning?" _Crunch, crunch, smack_. Tiny Red protested against Snaggletooth Scott kidnapping more of his precious bacon.

She nodded while sliding eggs on three other plates. She made a mental list of who was all staying at the safe, recovery, whatever house: Scott, Red, Raphael, a teenage girl named Monica, an elderly chap, and a woman around her own age, probably older. What these people meant to Raphael, Emyrs didn't have a single clue but they _were_ important, and she wasn't going to question him. He yelled at all of them, except for the elderly people, excluding her; she didn't know if that meant any more respect from him or what. But what she did know was that his munching and smacking was irritating.

"Red, quit your complainin'! Too early!" Raph howled and smacked the boy on his mangled head.

Firecracker Red covered his plate with his oversized pajamas. "Y'all need to quit stealin' my food! 'myrs, tell them to quit stealin'!"

"We're older so you have to give your food to us! We need more food!" Snaggletooth spat everywhere. Emyrs was losing her appetite quickly and decided that delivering the food to the other tenants would be a better idea.

"Thank you, dear. You're so pretty," the elderly man croaked and graciously took his plate. "I like your eyes. My Whitney had eyes like that. So pretty." Emyrs knew where that conversation was going; his name would be Whitney then.

Across the room, the middle aged woman reached out for her plate before Emyrs could get there. "Food! Good food!" Emyrs realized the woman was a Down Syndrome patient and was probably younger then, in the 30s. She was incredibly cute but a little unpredictable. "I like eggs. Thank you!" She bounced under her tattered shawl and see-sawed her plate. Emyrs secretly named her 'Skittles' because she was always found with a bag of the colored candy in her hands.

"Easy now. You don't want the good food dropped on the floor," Em said and looked around for the last tenant, the teen girl Monica. Emyrs only knew of two bedrooms in the place, but she was sure she heard Raph talk about a third one.

"Over there," Raph pointed to their left, directly across the room. "Watch it. Three little steps before you get to the door. Monica stays in the master bedroom. It's where Merrick used to sleep, but... she ain't here anymore so Monica got it."

Emyrs followed accordingly and softly knocked on Monica's door.

"She's kind of an asshole, so—"

The door swung open, and a dark skinned, pretty girl snatched her plate, mumbled a thank you of some kind, and closed the door.

" -so don't take offense to it," Raph finished and then flipped a bird at the door.

Em paid no attention and headed back down the steps, brushing past Raphael.

"You haven't said two words to me this morning. You still that mad? I told you I was sorry for screaming and sayin' those things-"

He rattled on and on, but what he didn't know, and probably would never know, was that Mei had been following her that morning. None of them could see her obviously, and most of the time, Emyrs didn't, but Mei was playing a tug of war with Em's mind.

"He's a hot one, isn't he?" her petite voice slithered behind Emyrs. "The Hamato brothers may be mutants, but they are stallions."

"Don't say that about him," Emyrs mumbled. "That's Kuma's son."

"Him?" Raph snapped, trailing behind her. "I was talking about you! You see yourself as a guy?"

Mei chuckled. "You really think you should be here? They don't want you here."

"I can't leave. Something is telling me to stay a while longer. Go away now!"

They were back in the kitchen, and the children were giving them perplexing looks. Raphael guzzled down his milk and smacked his lips. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Em. You're a hoot, that's for sure."

Mei leaned on the stove as Emyrs started cleaning the dishes, "It's been a while, hasn't it, my friend? Loving another and giving yourself completely."

Raph's voice squeezed in her head, "You should eat, Em. I haven't seen you take one bite."

She scrubbed harder as Mei's sickening voice increased. "You don't have a shot anyways. You can't keep anyone because of your selfishness. You can't even keep your daughter."

"...Emyrs, did you hear what I said?" Raph leaned over her and whispered into her ear. "I got a visitor coming soon, and I need you to help me, okay? It's important to me that I make a good impression."

The German lady nodded and relaxed while scrubbing a frying pan.

He patted her arm. "Atta girl." Raph snatched the kids' plates from the table. "Go get dressed and I want teeth cleaned and hairs combed. One strand out of place and you spend time out with me, got it?"

They cleared the kitchen quickly, almost falling over each other. She looked over to the stove and didn't see Mei, but Raph remained behind her, arms crossed and wearing a worried expression. "Why do you keep staring at the stove? Something you need from there?"

"No."

"Don't get too comfy here. I'll be taking you home tonight."

Emyrs turned around and reached for something in a drawer when Mei's squeaky face popped at her. "I know first hand about being with those turtle boys."

"I bet you do," Emyrs dryly commented. "What a heifer."

"A what?" Raph and Mei stared at the back of Em's head.

"That's not what I'm here for. I think he's a very nice, hard working man, and why can't men and women just be friends? I have to screw every man I befriend?"

Raph held his mouth open like a bug-catcher. "Who in the WORLD are you talking to? Who's screwing who? I'm not screwin' anybody!"

"Now he thinks you're psycho," Mei's milky grin made Emyrs want to fly into a rage.

"Okay, Cowgirl with your fucking stallions and loose rope, go piss on someone else's parade!" Em ripped off her washing gloves and smacked them on the table. "I'm not crazy, really!" She grinned at Raphael and threw her hands in the air. "I know where I am and I know who I am and I..."

Raphael glared in Mei's direction, although she wasn't visible to him, and she shuddered. "Can he see me, Emyrs?"

"Can you _see_ her, Raphael?"

He inhaled deeply and pasted a wry grin on his mug. "No, but I have an idea. Try not to listen to whatever she says, Em. One of these days, you'll get to kick that yapping dog and shut her up for good."

A nervous Emyrs quickly glanced down the hall for any peeping children, and when she glanced back, Mei was gone. Raphael stood looking in her spot for a long few moments, shoveling his hands in his pockets and then lowering his eyes to the floor. "I bet she's torturing Mike, too. Just come get me whenever she starts trouble."

The doorbell rang, sending Red and Snaggletooth tumbling to the front door and shouting "she's here! she's here!" and then Skittles joining in the live entertainment.

"That's her. You can wait here if you want. She'll probably want to meet ya, but we'll see," Raph hurried and patted the table for her to sit. She did so on command and waited for her cue.

Red yanked on the door handle first and was face-planted by Snaggletooth's elbow. Tempers peaked and hands wildly flew over the tops of heads. Skittles bounced through the chaos and opened the door.

"Hello, Charlotte!" a pretty, glowing girl with auburn hair tucked under a sunflower hat, freckles, and a flowery blue dress chirped. "You are so beautiful today! You're smiling and I like that! May I come in? It's very chilly!" She shivered.

Charlotte's cheeks flushed and she bounced more as the door opened. She almost knocked a hole in the wall using the doorknob. Raphael shrugged and blurted, "Adds to the other holes and scratches."

"Miss Darling! Miss Darling! I have a new friend!" Red squealed, his cherry hair recoiling in rhythm with Charlotte's short bouncing body. "Scott don't like her, but she's so nice and pretty and I think she's Big Dawg's long lost cousin."

Miss Darling stepped into the house and took a quick peek around, grinning at Red's charming news and immediately locked eyes with Raphael. "Red, I'm so glad you made a new friend. I would like to meet her very soon. Mister Hamato," she bowed, "I see that you're still taking in people when I asked you not to? You have a scratch on your head. Perhaps you injured it and had slight amnesia?"

Miss Darling the Social Worker always made Raphael nervous. She was kind, and the residents loved her. She carried around a huge pink suitcase with tiny kitten and rainbow charms on it. "No, no, I didn't forget! We can talk about it when you get comfy. I'll take your suitcase there." He zipped past Red and snatched the suitcase out of her hand. "Thanks for stopping by today, uh... Miss Darling."

"You can call me, Shannon, Mister Hamato," her perky gray eyes flashed. "You look very well-groomed today. I've never seen you wear a shirt with no wrinkles."

Snaggletooth tugged on Shannon's arm. "Hey! Is that a ring on your finger?"

"RING!" Charlotte cooed and closely inspected the shimmering rock. "It's so pretty! Are you happy? People who wear these are happy."

"I am happy, Miss Charlotte," Shannon whispered and touched her forehead to Charlotte's. "The happiest I've ever been. Are you happy?"

Charlotte didn't answer and ogled over the ring. Red and Snaggletooth glanced at it quickly and then turned their attentions to the suitcase. Red meekly asked, "Did you bring us any..."

"Maybe, maybe not!" Shannon sing-songed and swung her hips. Her dress flowed in harmony, and she patted Red and Snaggletooth's heads. "First, I have to do my report and then we'll see about what's in the suitcase. I'll be with you shortly."

Raphael dug his hands in his pants and stood by the couch where Mr. Whitney was sitting, enjoying his breakfast. Shannon greeted the elder and brought out her clipboard in the process. The clipboard of doom, Raphael sighed; he dreaded the visits but knew they were necessary. He had an odd relationship with Shannon, and he could never read her directly. She seemed genuine but a little plastic sometimes. She was a former colleague to his dear friend, Merrick, the previous safe house owner, and she promised to make sure things went smoothly with the transitions. Every resident in the house meant a lot to Merrick, and he would work with anybody and do anything to ensure her dreams and goals were met. Or at least, to the best of his ability.

The way Shannon Darling the Social Worker pranced through the house was amusing. Everyone had a smile on their face when she approached them. Her questions were a little probing, obviously, but they were handled with grace and respect. Charlotte and Mr. Whitney took more time to work with than the kids, and the children were getting a little antsy. Raph played a board game with them on the bedroom floor until Shannon glided into the room, carrying her suitcase of happiness and bringing a little sun into the room.

"I'm sorry it took so long. Who's winning?" she eyed them curiously.

Snaggletooth stuck his tongue out at Red. "He is!" Red's victory soon turned sour and he pouted.

Shannon joined them on the floor, spreading her dress like an umbrella. "Very good, Red! Don't let others trample on your wins. Keep going!"

They ran through a short game; Raphael lost early and stewed on the side. Nobody paid attention for a while until Shannon lost the second round. She poked him in the arm. "I know what you need!" She rummaged in her suitcase, making the children's eyes grow big, and pulled out an empty, clear jar with a blue ribbon tied around the rim.

Raphael lightly groaned, but wasn't terribly annoyed. It was her –

"Pandora's House!" She giggled and showcased the jar. "Put your bad or sad thoughts in here and forget all about them. It works! My mama gave it to me when I was a kid and told me to use it every time I was sad. From when I lost my first weiner dog to a John Deere tractor to when I lost someone real dear to me two years ago. My sister died at our parents' cabin. She drowned and I wasn't there," Shannon idly presented.

Snaggletooth and Raph exchanged embarrassed glances, but Red broke the silence and giggled. "How does it work?" he yelped.

Shannon tapped Raph on the shoulder and stuck the jar over his beak, absorbing his mouth inside it. "Blow in and out!" The kids had a laughing fit, and Raph calmly un-sucked himself from the rim and handed it back to Shannon. He wore a very thin smile at the abuse.

"You have a red mark around your mouth, Dawg!" Snaggletooth howled and knocked over his game pieces. Red dashed to the bathroom because he was wetting his pants.

"Cute," Raph mumbled and flicked Shannon's sunflower hat. His finger packed a punch and sent it drooping off her head.

"Hey! Quit it!" she whined and straightened it. "Scott, why don't you finish the game when Red comes back and then it'll be our turn, okay?"

Raphael helped Shannon off the floor and they walked into the hallway. She tried peeking into the kitchen but Raph conveniently blocked her view. "Yeah, that," he coughed. "I'll tell you about her-"

"Are you sleeping with a woman in this house?" she sharply questioned. It was one of those times when he didn't know if she was teasing or not.

"No, NO!" he waved it off. "That's my friend! She's having a little trouble and I gave her a place to stay. I'm taking her back home tonight."

"And she hasn't brought in any... illegal or questionable substances into this household?" Shannon looked through the corner of her eyes and still trying to peek into the kitchen. "Why didn't you call me?"

Red opened the bathroom door and idly walked back into the bedroom, commenting, "He dropped his phone in the bathtub and then it fell off the roof. That did it in." The door closed.

Shannon blinked. "I don't see you as the bath type. You like bubble baths, Mister Hamato?"

He fumed and pulled up his sliding pants. "That's not the point! Everything's fine! I've had good marks and I keep everybody clean and out of trouble. You gotta trust me with this one. Em wouldn't hurt anybody or nothin'. I. PROMISE!"

Shannon felt the passion bulging from his eyes and her smile disappeared. He was at that point again where he couldn't read her. As a small smile returned on her face, she remarked, "You sure are pretty when you believe in something. I might have to start calling you Pretty Mister Hamato."

"Call me whatever if it means all of this transitions over, and _I_ know where everyone goes!" He sighed and relaxed his shoulders against the wall. "Even Monica and Snaggletooth."

Shannon saluted and almost collided her hand into Raph's beak. "You can count on me."

* * *

All was quiet on the Kitchen Front for Emyrs. No Mei in the last hour and a half or so, and the kitchen was completely clean. She had heard Raphael's important, bubbly guest parading through the house and saw a peek of a sunflower hat. Very peculiar.

"The Monica girl has a boy in her room."

Em gripped her hands on the table and tried suppressing the annoyance. "Go away."

"I am honest! I have never lied about anything to you." Her curvy figure wearing a traditional black dress sat across the table. "The boy will be doing bad things to her."

Em didn't look up.

Mei huffed, "You can go and stop it, and save your friend from total embarrassment."

Emyrs released one of her hands and tiredly rubbed her forehead. "And how would I do that, O Wise One? Who would listen to the crazy fossil? I wish I could shoot you through the head!"

"Also, the social worker will talk to you. Keep in mind that her twin sister died from drowning in their parents' lake and she was supposed to be watching her if she wants to get cold with you."

Emyrs glared at Mei and was really wishing to strangle the cockiness right out of her. "And what does THAT have to do with anything? Go haunt somebody else, you old witch!"

"Emyrs!" Raph hissed from the doorway, alone. "I told you to behave!"

"Sorry... she, uh... told me that.."

"Don't give a flip. Listen, she's talking to the kids and that will take a little while. Let's go get some fresh air before she investigates you. Don't tell her that you talk to ghosts or whatever!" He took her hand and helped her out of the chair, walking her down the hallway. "Just be normal, got it? The normal Emyrs Becker before whatever happened to you is happening now." He did a wide range of emotions with his hands, and it bedazzled her. Almost too much that she almost forgot to stop by Monica's door.

"Wait!" she unwrapped herself from his grasp. "Listen, I …. she's telling me that Monica may be in trouble and I don't know what to believe."

"What kind of trouble? She's a teenager and always in some kind of trouble!"

She shushed his tempered voice. "Just knock on the door and when she opens it, let yourself in or something. Quickly! Before the lady gets back out here and you get in trouble."

He studied her for a moment, and then slowly walked up the steps to the door. He rapped on it, and they waited in silence.

"Monica," Raph commanded. "Open the door. Darling's here."

There was light movement and muffled voices behind the door. He pressed on further. "Open this door right now."

Emyrs swiftly checked for the social worker. Nothing so far. Whitney and Skittles were giggling on the couch; Skittles was playing peek-a-boo under her shawl.

"Alright, lady, open this door!" he fussed into the door, puffy as a ticked cat, "You got ten seconds!"

She was impressed that he gave them _that_ much time, but her nerves were crossing hairs with the situation, and something was about to explode. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea...

"You better not be lying, Mei!" Emyrs mumbled to herself. At that time, the door creaked open, and Raph backed away from it slightly, not knowing what to expect.

A young male's voice flooded from the room. "Stay right there, you freak. Stay riiiiight there!"

Emyrs couldn't see the boy from where she was standing, but from the brick look on Raphael's face, it wasn't good at all. "Careful with that there, kid. No going back after you pull that trigger."

"I know you got a gun! You better get rid of it or I'll shoot this whore's kneecaps!"

"Watch your fucking mouth, boy," Raph gritted through his teeth. "Monica could be a good kid if she dumped trash like you."

Emyrs' heart surged in her chest from overhearing the conversation. Mei's star-crossed voice startled her. "The little kid thinks he's so cute twisting the gun in his hand. Even I know that's wrong. Grab the gun when Raphael slides it to you. Go outside, take a left below the steps, and hold him at gunpoint through the window. It is open."

Em glanced in Mei's direction, who branded a confident smile. "Mm. Honest. I was correct about this, yes?"

Trusting the ghost was the only option Emyrs had, bar retrieving the social worker and notifying authorities: something only a _sane_ person would do. Hearing voices wasn't exactly the template for a healthy citizen. Em waited for the next step, the next little trigger before executing any plan. She breathed through her diaphragm several times and was thankful when Mei disappeared from view.

The hot headed boy barked, "Shut the hell up! You stay away from her! She's packing right now and you better just enjoy the show, freak!"

"Monica, think about this-" Raph started and took a couple of steps. Monica sniffed and threw down her clothes.

"Just do as he says, Raphael!" she cleared her throat. "Just do it," as her voice cut off and more clothes whipped in the air. "Stop being a hero all the time.."

Raph grunted and pulled the gun from its holder. He knelt down on the floor and scooted it out of view while keeping his eyes glued on the teenagers the whole time. The 'something' that Emyrs had been waiting for snapped in her conscience. Showtime, the turtle lady knew.

"So – so I heard that you know ninja shit and stuff so don't pull that on me either!" The black-haired boy's green eyes burned into Raph's frame, and Raph wondered how a decent looking kid with smooth tan skin and not a touch of dirt anywhere could have all of his teeth in his mouth from the foul words that came out of it. "Monica, you almost through with this? Damn!"

"You must be a newcomer to the street scene, Hot Tamale," Raph sneered, his forehead wrinkling with crude humor. "And I know a little of the fancy footwork. Put down that gun and stop acting like a douche!"

Monica propelled a white hairbrush in Raph's direction, and he easily avoided it. "Don't call him that, ****!" She avoided looking in her caretaker's eyes. "I'm almost through, Jon! I gotta get my school stuff."

"Fuck that. We'll get you new ones!"

"NO! They're important to me!" Her sleek, brown face festered with tears and her bloodshot eyes darted around the room. "I don't want another backpack! I like my stuff! I LIKE IT!" She flailed her arms through a closet, never really picking up anything and instead just stomping through the place.

Raph had been called that insult many times; it was such an ugly structure of a word, the way it sounded and even looked, and he damaged many faces from hearing the word alone. Listening to it uttered from the people in that house, though... it stung. It punctured him in the chest, as if one of his own brothers said it to him. He knew teenagers wouldn't listen to his outbursts unless it was a threat, especially street kids, like Monica. But he knew she cared for Merrick, their mutual friend and confidante.

He picked up her hair brush and studied the tangled bits of black strands in it. The kids were still snapping at each other and it was quickly getting on his nerves; he flapped the back of the brush against his palm several times and stared at Monica snapping her suitcase shut.

Jon felt hard pressed to show more of his asshole side. "Why you gotta bring all that shit? You act like we're going on a vacation, ya broad!"

"Stop calling me names, JON!" Monica punched her suitcase sending ripples through her unkempt hair. "I'm tired of that mess! I'm not afraid of you!"

"Shut the hell up and let's go THEN!" The gun trembled in Jon's hands when he screamed at her. Raph just knew an audience would grow behind him soon, and the watchful eyes of a certain social worker would try to take control of this silly but dangerous situation.

The two teens continued spitting insults, like a dysfunctional married couple, and Raph caught the glimpse of a shiny dot in the window.

"Monica," Raph sharply demanded and marched forward like a bull ready to charge, "I forgive you for calling me that, but I won't take you back under my wing if you go out with this sorry good-for-nothing."

Monica's face was in sheer torment; he knew she was being pressured to leave. Still, she remained defiant. "You don't know Jon. He's gonna take care of me. He already has been! I get anything I want when I'm with him, and he doesn't let anybody hurt me."

"Except when he's doing the hurting. Have I ever called you names! Have you ever gone hungry?"

Jon wiggled the gun. "Stay back, asshole! I've shot animals like you before!"

"Jon..." Monica hoarsely whispered and was then seeing the same glimmer from the window. "You better not pull that trigger like he says..."

"Whose fucking side are you on, woman?" Jon whined. He followed Monica's stare to the window, backing up against the wall and slithering further away from an approaching, hasty Turtleman. "Aw, shhhhhiiit..." when he realized he was looking straight into another small, dark pistol barrel.

Jon lowered his gun and screeched, "You told me he was the only one! You lying bitch!" He squealed as a pair of green, tough hands snatched, disarmed, and folded his slinky frame into a pretzel on the bed.

During the wrestle, Monica balled her fists and slammed them against Raph's shell. "Don't hurt him, Raph! Don't you kill him! He's just a boy!"

In the frigid temperatures, Emyrs unlocked her sights on the target and raised an eyebrow at the madness inside. She ducked once she saw Shannon appear at the doorway.

"Stop this! Mister Hamato! Monica!" Shannon shrilled and stomped her foot. Emyrs covered her own mouth and tried to not snicker. The anxiety was tampering off and she released it through humor. It was about to turn very ugly inside, but hearing the girly screams bellowing from a boy's throat tickled her funny bone.

* * *

Raphael Hamato leaned against the corner of the wall with his hands still feeling the aftermath of wrapping them around a little brat's neck. Pure satisfaction. However, the police were just leaving with Jon in custody, and all eyes were locked on Raphael and how he handled the situation. Charlotte, Mr. Whitney, and the children clamored in the kitchen playing with putty while the rest of the party congregated in the livingroom. Shannon Darling hugged Monica on the couch.

"I'm sorry that your friend is hurt," she whispered to the broken teen girl, "but Raphael was protecting you and this house. He didn't know Jon, and Jon had a gun. Guns are very bad in the wrong hands."

Monica sniffed and wiped her wet cheeks, "I want out of here, Ms. Darling. I just want out. Don't wanna be here no more."

"And I'm working on that, Miss Monica. In fact, you were next on the list after Charlotte and Mr. Dooney. They are disabled and need to be transferred first. Can you please understand that?" Shannon squeezed Monica's hand. "I _promise_ you I'm working on it."

Emyrs sat on the opposite couch and was engrossed in a coloring book picture splashed in random colors and an empty pack of Skittles next to it. At least she knew Skittles and Mr. Whitney's true names now.

"Why don't you go wash your pretty face and we'll go for a walk? Bundle up! And I want you to wear your pink scarf because that looks pretty on you!" Shannon's little smile cultivated, and with a pat on Monica's hands, it cued the teen girl to leave the room.

When the bathroom door down the hall closed, Shannon's smile disappeared. She turned her head towards Raph and pointed in Em's direction. "Have a seat, Mr. Hamato, next to your friend."

He huffed and puffed and dumped next to Emyrs, bouncing her and breaking her steady concentration. He was much heavier than she was and caused her to slide down next to him and almost on his leg. She was too scared to move.

"You're a crime fighter out there, not in here, Mr. Hamato," Shannon began, leaning towards them. "He was just a boy. I think you might have broken his arm like it was a toothpick. You're much bigger than him."

Raph glared at the coloring book on the table.

"And furthermore, you should have asked me to come help. I would have immediately notified the police." Shannon switched to Emyrs, "Why didn't you call the police? Where were you, Miss...?"

"Becker," Raph jumped in, "and she doesn't know English."

Emyrs had her mouth half open but promptly closed it. Raph hurriedly continued, "He had a gun and I had to do something about it. That's just me. He was calling Monica names and I'm not having that!" His roasting golden eyes crackled at the social worker. "I did what I had to do. Go ahead and take everyone away from the Crazy ****!"

"Mr. Hamato!" Shannon gasped. "Don't you dare call yourself that hideous name!"

He crossed his arms and sunk into the couch. "Yeah, whatever. Do what you need to do now, Miss Darling. I'm finished."

Emyrs sadly glanced at him and readjusted her position. Shannon's eyes hurtled between the two, and she simmered down suddenly. "What you did for these people over the last few weeks have been phenomenal. You took on so much, and you did so bravely. I just want you to know that, Mr. Hamato."

She smiled at Emyrs and pushed a string of foreign words in her direction. They sounded Spanish, and Emyrs knew a little of it. "Bravely, Miss Becker. Our friend is very courageous, isn't he?"

Emyrs nodded and returned the smile. Raph sighed and left the couch. "So what's next then?"

"Monica will go with me for now, and I'll return this evening for Mr. Dooney and Charlotte. The kids are a little harder to place at the moment." Shannon picked up a crayon and drew a heart in the coloring book. "Take care of the kids a little longer. Will you be able to do that?"

Raphael moved a shoe from the hallway. "Sure. Maybe I won't screw that up."

"You won't." Shannon stood from the couch and saluted to him. "Miss Becker is here to help you, and I like her eyes. She has kind eyes like a senior dog that is a puppy forever."

Raph smirked and acknowledged the comment. Monica appeared behind him, and they exchanged awkward glances. He stepped out of her way and retrieved Shannon's suitcase.

"Since you already have your things packed, Monica, we can go!" Shannon chirped and happily took her suitcase, turning back to Raph and Em. "Say goodbye to the kids and the others for me. I'll see you all soon. I have a violin class to teach this afternoon so hopefully I won't be late."

The house was awfully quiet when the two left. Emyrs humored herself and colored in a rose bush on the table; Raph peeked in Monica's old room and stared at it for a long time.

* * *

The Master, the Father's room was the most calm space in the Lair, and Leonardo hid in the dark corner just a touch after sunrise. Splinter awakened, sleepily rolled out of bed, and walked to the kitchen. Their father would have sensed Leonardo's presence in a beat; it was another dreadful sign that life was throwing a giant, destructive curve ball into the Hamato family. Memories, skills, and simple things were fading from their father's eye.

After a stormy night of emotions, a couple of tears escaped Leonardo's grasp. Then, more rolled onto his bruised cheeks. It was the first in a long time he felt like a vulnerable boy, instead of a man.

A kettle's wail broke Master Splinter's scattered thoughts. He poured a cup of hot tea and sadly peered around their silent home. "Hello? Is anyone here? My sons?"

The heavy maroon cup rattled in his twitchy hand, and he drank nervously. He was growing tired of a quiet home and how distant his family felt. Could he have done something differently? Maybe, had been a better father? Better master? A better listener to his sons' manifesting problems? Forgetting and mismatching names once in a while shouldn't be a reason to stay away from him, Splinter fumed, and the cup rattled more.

"I asked if anyone is here! Answer me!" He dusted off his disciplinary tone, flapping his whiskers in annoyance.

"I am here, Master," Leonardo's soothing voice entered the room. "Father."

"Where are the others? I want my family here. All of you!"

Leonardo's heart trembled, but he held back any negative emotions. "They're coming. We'll all be together again soon."

Splinter furiously sipped his tea. "I will give each of you fifty flips for disobeying my commands. This is no way to treat your sensei." He was so cold, so spiteful, and nothing like his son had ever seen, even in their younger days. "Are you going to stand there or join me for tea? Conviction, my son."

"Conviction," Leonardo whispered and remembered the same lesson he gave to his little wide-eyed, red headed student. "Yes, I will join you for tea, Master."

"Then you shall retrieve your brothers," Splinter simmered and proceeded in his Japanese tongue. Pouring his own cup, Leonardo acknowledged his sensei's speech. There were only a handful of times in his life when Leonardo even thought about arguing with Splinter, but his dull emotions and throbbing pains rescued the broken conversation. Splinter wasn't making any sense, even in his native tongue, but Leonardo steadfastly listened and endured the awkward loneliness he felt in the kitchen, even though he wasn't alone.

The verbal altercation ceased once three raised voices and shuffling bodies pierced the tense environment. Leonardo solemnly looked up and immediately gazed into Michelangelo's bloodshot, but twinkling, eyes; Donatello supported his limping brother across the family den, and a rushed Abigail trailed right behind them.

Leonardo gently tapped his sensei's twitching hand and greeted his brothers, wordless and elated. He smiled, just to show that he was okay, too, and was completely off his guard when Michelangelo embraced all three of them into one massive green lump. It was a much anticipated moment with just one brother still missing.

"Please rest, Mike. Do you need anything?" Leonardo asked, taking hold of Mike's body and lumbered to the kitchen table.

Mike smiled through his groans as he sat down. "Mikey just needs a little water, Bro. Got a bad case of cottonmouth." He smacked his dry lips and focused his attention on Splinter, sitting across the table. "Sensei, are you glad to have humor back in your life again?"

Quickly, Leonardo set a glass of water in front of Mikey and nervously eyed Donatello, who was at first confused but caught the implication.

Mikey didn't allow the silence to kill his good mood. "I missed you and your tea and your incense, Sensei. It's good to be back."

"Where is Stuart?" Splinter sharply asked Leo, and then turned to Don. "Stuart is always gone and never comes to see us. He smells like cat dung and never brushes his teeth when I tell him to!"

"He sure does!" Mikey pretended by waving his hand and crunching his face. "I think you could chip crust off his teeth and make a whole loaf of bread!"

"Yuck!" Abby protested, hiding behind Donatello. Leo wryly smiled at her and glanced back at the situation.

Splinter nodded and sipped his tea. "Stuart will do one hundred and fifty flips when he gets back. He will clean his room and train!"

"You know I'll let you know when that ol' Do-Nothing gets home!" Mikey gulped down his water and winked at no one in particular. "Man, I was thirsty! I drank the whole thing in one gulp!" Two small burps and he rubbed his belly in deep satisfaction.

Donatello patted Splinter on the shoulder and breathlessly said, "When Stuart returns, we'll send him right to you. Go easy on him, will you?"

Splinter's eyes rumbled with heavy thought; he finally smiled and then acknowledged his son. He slipped out of his seat and glided to his bedroom, nodding at Abby as he passed her.

The family gathered a collective sigh but passed around small smiles to the other. One day at a time. That's all they could do.

* * *

Fish; all kinds of exotic fish curved through the gigantic water tank. Each one had a name, but he could care less. His eyes always surveyed the humble, clean office with its homely feel and fresh smell. It was the reason why he enjoyed coming to his boss' office and had a chance to step away from the workplace filth with its disgusting keyboards, nasty people with their coughs, sniffles, and gurgles, and a heavy atmosphere of optimism and laughter. He did his work, ate his lunch, and went home. No socializing and no confusion.

Viewing the family pictures in shimmering gold frames on the desk hauled a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew the dirty secrets behind each frame and that sweetened the moment a little more. His Boss' stout fingers thumbed across a keyboard and laced with the sound from the tank were the only noises in the room for quite some time. The glossy leather chair had its back towards him, and it soon squeaked through the room's humming, signaling his boss' direct attention.

"I need a clean image, and that is almost impossible when there is trash on the streets," the deep male voice thundered. "I have a campaign to run, and a position to obtain. I have goals, and they must be met. You understand that better than anybody, Mr. Chaplin. You have muted the loud voices for me."

Burgundy strands of hair flowed with Chaplin's physical acknowledgment to his mammoth-sized Boss, who towered over his leaner, muscular body. Chaplin slouched when he dressed in civilian wear, maintained a messy goatee and hair, and wore thick-rimmed glasses. Speaking tech gibberish and nonsense usually pushed normal people away, and that meant no strings attached when it came to his true, misanthropic job.

"Keep it as clean as a whistle, Mr. Chaplin, and we'll do business again. That is all." The leather chair returned to the computer screen. Chaplin disappeared before the Boss' fingers returned to the keyboard.


	47. Chapter 43 :: Life, My Friend

_Synopsis: Emyrs Becker got the full scoop on Raphael's new friends, all huddled together in a safe house. A fight breaks out among Raphael, Monica, a teenager who wanted out of his care, and Monica's boyfriend. Afterwards, Emyrs is introduced to the quirky social worker, Ms. Shannon Darling. It's truly never a dull moment in the house._

_Mikey returns home to the Lair and greets his Sensei father. All is going well._

_And Nicholas Hunter Mason is scheming with an assassin and urges the assassin to "keep things clean" for him._

* * *

"Charlotte likes your little bush," Red's southern accent fell on Emyrs' ears, startling her a little on the icy front steps. "And you wrote Abigail's name. That's your daughter, right? Charlotte named her pillow that and a piece of red Skittle since you colored the bush red. Is it on fire?"

Emyrs smiled and folded the newspaper she was reading. "It's an Abigail and Red bush because your hairs are that color and you're both very special to me."

Red leaned on the icy railing and blew into the cold air. "Why does she have hair and you don't?"

"Abby is adopted, but I don't know who her parents are. One or both of them must have hair."

"That's weird!" Red laughed, flashing his cute teeth, "I can't see you or Dawg with hair."

Emyrs chuckled, hiding her beak behind the newspaper, "Can you see us with afros? I think the color purple is in."

"Dawg with an afro?" he squealed, almost slipping off the rail, "would he wear those ballbottoms?"

"Bellbottoms, Red, you dope!" The faded biege front door swung open with Raphael sternly correcting the boy. His steel toed boot licked an icy patch and almost sent the Dawg rolling down the steps, but he caught his balance on Emyrs' shoulders.

"HAHA!" Red barked, pointing and snorting. The railing creaked from his weight.

Raph grunted and stood upright, intimidating the youngster. "Get out of the cold! You got school tomorrow so better enjoy the last day! Scram!"

Crimson hair flapped in the wind and then disappeared into the house. Emyrs slapped Raph's leg behind her with the newspaper. "You frighten children, stud!"

He coughed and hacked into the bushes. "These kids are tough or else they would have jet. Like Monica. Guess she ain't so tough after all." There was a hint of sadness to his voice. Emyrs bundled under her borrowed tan coat and watched several cars pass.

"Monica had a lot of problems. I don't think there was too much you could help her with."

"You girls make problems. I see that a lot." He kicked the railing and watched the snow fall off it. "No offense."

"We're just a big grab-bag of emotions. What are those little things girls wear? American girls? Little flashy rings?"

"Mood rings. And I only know because Mikey bought some for Angel one time!"

Em checked the obituaries. "I believe you. This Merrick person must be very special for you to deal with this stuff. I'm all for taking care of people, but you have a lot of guts, lad. I was ready to strangle both of those kids for you. That's no way to talk to people who take care of you."

She felt his body plop on the steps, a little haphazardly, but his defining ninja skills once again saved him from an icy doom. He coughed and rested his elbows on his kneecaps, "She was my buddy. A real good friend since I was sixteen, before all of this non-human/ human society crap. I went through some tough times, being an asshole to my family, and trying to drink myself to death, I guess."

She flipped to another page and waited for his next revelation. Making eye contact and consoling a rugged guy like him just wouldn't fly. She could pretend to read a macaroni, cheese, and apple pie recipe while he spilled his guts all over the place.

"My brothers always made fun of me about her, and I even took her down to the sewer after a year 'cuz she was eager to meet more of my kind and... whatever. She's gone so it doesn't matter. Read your stupid paper."

Nonchalantly, she pretended to be interested in a horoscope. "What's your sign? Mine says 'your ability to coordinate events is something to be admired. Financial gain is one of the brighter prospects looming before you now, as you focus on what is most important to you at this time.' If only it knew I was completely broke and senile."

He rubbed his forehead and blurted, "Aries or Taurus. I can't remember. I don't read that stuff."

"Okay. What's your birthday?"

"May something," he shrugged off the question.

She scoffed. "May something falls under Taurus today.'You may find yourself guiding young people -at least spending a great deal of time with young people. You may be feeling that your work world has taken away from family time and family may be where your interests are just now.' Sounds pretty accurate so far." She clicked her tongue.

"Young people, huh? I failed at that, too. Failed at holding a job and even hitting on a woman. I need to go back to the sewers and be a ninja turtle. Cracking skulls and breaking limbs wasn't so bad."

"Yah," Emyrs rode the self-depressing wave, "So go do it. Splinter could use the help and you don't have to fuss with society."

"Good thing I'm not paying you to be my psychiatrist! I'd shoot myself! I'll even use your gun!"

"That'll cost you! And you mentioned Merrick in the past tense. Where did she go? You ran her off with your pleasant attitude?"

"Shut the hell up!" he crowed, punching her newspaper. "You don't know her! She went missing, Sherlock! Now stuff that in your horoscope!"

A creepy female voice sung in her ear. "His friend is dead. Her body parts were incinerated, and her ashes are in the river, currently devoured by the fish." Emyrs didn't want to see where Mei was standing so she tried to ignore the chatterbox.

"Then all the more reason to finish what you started," Em closed the newspaper and shivered. "Get- get these people to a new home and make your friend p-proud."

"I don't think she's alive, to be honest," his temper waned while he shoveled the heel of his boot into the snow. "She was too stubborn and very vocal about non-human rights. People were probably after her, and I was too preoccupied to stop it. This kind of new life is making me soft. Too fucking soft."

"He's not as dumb as he looks," a smirk in Mei's voice, "and maybe he'll be smart enough to join the military and not die in a pitiful, shameful way."

"Do you have a picture of your f-friend?" Emyrs squeezed her eyes and pushed away the devil.

He dug into his back-pocket and pulled out a ragged black wallet with an eagle seal on the front. "Somewhere in here," he muttered and fumbled around in it. "Not like there's no money in here but – ah! There."

A pretty dark-skinned woman with wavy black hair and electric blue-gray eyes beamed at Emyrs. She smiled back at the photo. Raphael pointed a finger at the memorabilia, "She was a little younger in that photo, and she cut all that pretty hair off. I got ticked off about it!"

"Let the woman cut her own hair, geez!" Em chuckled and took one last look before handing it back to him. "She looks sincere."

"Yeah," his lips barely moved as he jammed the photo back in his wallet. "Too damn sincere and not enough backbone."

Mei wouldn't leave, no matter what. "He's a scared little boy trapped in a man's body. Frightened of what people may find out about him and use it against him. He's as harmful as a mosquito."

"A pretty big and mean mosquito," Emyrs mumbled and rubbed her eyes. "I wouldn't test that theory."

"Is that bitch bothering you again?" Raph hollered and glared in a random direction. "I'll piss on your magic wand! Shut the fuck up about me!"

Emyrs' eyes floated between the two hot-heads. The usually calm Mei pursed her lips and returned his glare. Raph finally scoffed at the pathetic situation and turned away his attention from the matter.

"Fucking ghosts!"

Vehicles on the road crumbled through the snow and ice, and pedestrians looked weary and cold as they pushed through the morning air. The clouds gobbled most of the pretty sunshine as the high noon hour was creeping closer. The chilly wind stung her cheeks as she tried sight-seeing the clouds. It was the same sky over her home back East, and that was reassuring to her.

Raph cleared his throat and tapped his boot on the ground. "I don't understand that otherworld stuff, ghosts, dreaming of the future. I've always been for the here and now."

"A good way to be," Em mumbled under the coat. "For the record, Mei is the only one I've ever seen, and I think she's obsessed with me. I wish I could just shoot her or file a restraining order."

"Did you say at one time that your mother died?" His abrupt question made her blink a few times.

"Yeah, it feels like yesterday but so long ago. If that makes sense."

He nodded at a pedestrian and floated back to the conversation. "I'm sure you know something ain't right with Sensei. He's been going downhill for a while, and I was a coward. I am a coward. I bailed. Checked out because I..."

The wind howled in her ears and she shuddered again. His words felt all too familiar to her.

"Because I kept seeing him dead in his room, or dead on the couch, or dead anywhere. Even one time," he extended his hand out, like he was seeing everything in his mind again, "I saw him dying in front of me, and I couldn't handle it. Not even at this age, and no matter how many times I tell myself that I'm a big boy and can handle it all. And for the first time, Leo understood me. He let me run. Run free."

She wanted to offer worldly advice for her friend, but it all clumped in her throat and wouldn't move.

"So I think I'm better now and I can go home and deal with this. And this whole Merrick and safe house fiasco has opened my eyes, and I should..." he sniffed from the cold biting at his face, or so she told herself, "...family is the most important, and I hope I've seen that before it's too late."

Emyrs instinctively moved closer to him and waited patiently.

"All of my brothers were busy with their problems: Donny, Mikey – Mike, I mean, and Leo. Leo working himself to death. It was chewing Donny up, I could tell, and Mike moved out. Casey and April had their own problems and with raising Shadow. I wanted to move out but I just couldn't. I had to stay and protect them." He coughed again and dug his heel deeper into the snow. "All we have is each other, even with all of these other Nons here, and you too. They're the most important to me even if all of you disappeared."

She listened to his words being carried by the breeze, and she finally worked up the courage to say anything, anything at all. "We had breakfast that morning and even watched a couple of tv shows. There were signs of recovery from her illness, and I thought it was safe to leave her home. I rode on my bicycle to meet with Abby at her school, and mostly to embarrass her, and she stormed away from me. It was the best thing I could have done because when I got home, Mother was dead in her bedroom, and it killed me inside for a long time that I wasn't there in her final moments." She licked her dry lips and crossed her fingers. "There were other problems between us, and nothing could make me feel better. Not even Mother's substantial inheritance."

Another one of Raphael's acquaintances shouted across the street, and a car wildly honked in the distance.

"I can only say that death ends a life, not a relationship." She scratched at her forehead and looked over at Raph. "I think you should go home, like you said. Work it out with your family." Her kneecaps popped as she stood and patted his shoulder. "I hope it all goes smoothly when you do."

"Thanks," he whispered, but she couldn't tell if he said it or not as she closed the door and left him to his thoughts.

"No, thank _you,_" she said with a genuine smile.

* * *

The Lair sounded like the old times. Mikey sang in the wash, off key, and laughed like a helium addict. Abby and Leonardo watched the news but had to stop at some points and smile at each other. Don emerged with an oily wrench from his workshop and knocked on the bathroom door with it.

"I'm not trying to crush your good mood, but Sensei's trying to sleep. Tone it down a little?" Don tried talking over the running water.

Mikey talked through a glob of something in his mouth as he sputtered, "Sowwy! It fweels so gwood to get a schower, bro!" He spat the something into the tub, presumably, since the shower water was still running. "My teeth felt like it had HAIR on it!" He laughed and hummed a random song. Don figured that was the end of the conversation from Mikey's half.

"Well, be a little more considerate. Glad to have you back, though," Don finished and joined Abby and Leo in the living room; he slung the wrench onto a pile of magazines and popped his neck. Abby heard the spinal crunch and gave him an odd look.

Sighing, Don collapsed in the armchair. "I'm so glad Christmas is over with. The bottom of Consumer hell and fury. People are knuckleheads over fuzzy toys that squeak and burp on command."

Across the coffee table, Leo shot him a warning look from the other armchair but declined comment. Don ignored it.

Abby carefully cleaned under her sharp fingernails and listened to the news. When she focused back on the tv, she saw Nicholas Hunter Mason's defined face on the screen. It reminded her of Vanderman and his wife and that she never found out if his wife survived. She hoped everything was okay with them. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't see a half-dried Mikey flying onto the couch. A yelp escaped her lips.

"MAAAN! I feel like a zillion bucks! I want some ice cream!" Mikey wiggled his feet over the sofa arm and tried reaching for Don's stationary legs. "Hot fudge sundae for King Mikey, please!"

"The economy is terrible!" Don barked and playfully added in a deeper voice as the news anchor appeared on the tv, "And in other news, due to budget cuts, Universal Airlines will no longer land."

"I hope they'll wait until I get home!" Abby protested, readjusting her tail to a comfortable position.

Leo probed through a sleek new tv guide and amused his student more. "Guess we'll have to teach you how to survive in the middle of an ocean. It's easy." Abby gulped as a response and he grinned, "I'm kidding. About the easy part at least."

"All of the candidates are set to make their big, fancy speeches tomorrow. What they're bringing to the table, their goals, and empty promises. I like to keep track of it all and post on the blogs," spitefully quipped Don. Leo chuckled, shaking his head and flipped through the channels.

Mikey snickered and tapped Don on the leg one last time before zipping to another subject. "Haaaaaas anybody seen my cat? Here, Rosie! Is she even here? Rosie, Rosie!" He called around the sewers. His brothers' eyes could have burst out of their skulls. _Nobody_ had thought of Rosie the entire time! Mikey dove under every furniture piece, calling Rosie's name and making cute noises to get her attention. He poked through all of the bedrooms and rattled through the cabinets in the kitchen, even checked the top of the fridge and other appliances. With each passing moment that Rosie wasn't in his arms, Mikey's movements jerked and his questions baked at his family.

"None of you have seen Rosie?" his voice trembled when he returned to the living room. "NONE of you? Did you even LOOK for her while you bitched about stupid stuff on tv?"

Leo had already jumped to his feet but stood out of Mikey's way. He slowly approached his frustrated relative and allowed calm words to roll off his tongue, "We were worried about you, and we had other matters. None of us were sitting here and watching the tv. Let's get on our coats and go-"

Something torched inside Mikey's chest, and whatever possessed him before had returned. He slammed his fists multiple times across the top of the sofa, charged back and forth through the Lair, blabbering incoherent words, and sent books, tools, and whatever stood in his way soaring through the air. Leo and Don were terribly too familiar with the temper tantrums but very seldom from Mikey: only a couple of times and that was from a year and a half ago. The only thing Leo could do was let the young man thrash out his anguish as long as no one was hurt; he rubbed the top of Abby's head as she curled as much as her slender body could into the couch. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her head into the cushion.

After Raphael's room was slaughtered, Mikey ambushed Don's workshop, and Don flew into his own tantrum.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Don stood at the door, watching his room melt into chaos, "Calm down, Mikey! We'll go look for her! No need to tear the place up!"

Mikey crashed into one of the tables, sending bolts and screws cascading to the floor. "She's probably DEAD by now, genius, and you let her DIE! You knew how much she meant to me! She's a dumb cat who can't survive in the cold!"

"She's …... NOT HERE!" Don screamed, and before he knew it, Mikey was planted right in front of him, beak to beak. Their eyes bore into each other.

"You don't FUCKING talk to me like that! I hate when you do that!"

"Talk to you like WHAT? Like you're INSANE, trashing our home?"

Mikey jabbed his finger into the air and didn't cower. "I saved your life, BROTHER! I saw you DIE! I saw you with your skull wide open, brain matter EVERYWHERE and they kicked your body like you were a rag doll!"

"And this – ALL of this wailing and breaking stuff – justifies everything?" Don bobbed his head, bringing his voice back down to normal, "You are on a warpath and you're not making any sense! We KNOW your cat is missing, and we WANT to look for her!"

"You're doing it again..." Mikey stepped away, talking through his teeth and clenching his jaw, "and I'm – I'm not.."

"Doing what?" Don demanded, already feeling drained. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just trying to explain this to you-"

In the middle of Don's speech, Mikey lifted a computer monitor and sailed it across the workshop, landing with a crystal-shattering wave echoing through the room. Don leaned against the door, extending one arm on the opposite frame, and blinked his eyes through his own developing anger. He almost scrapped his hands against the frame until a gentle hand docked on his trembling shoulders. Expecting Leonardo, he was more than surprised to see their Sensei instead.

"Go rest," Splinter's paternal voice soothed Don's temper, and he saw that old look in his father's eyes, the confident, _real_ one. "I'll handle your brother."

Don's workshop was still in the middle of pandemonium when he strolled away, and he was frightened over Splinter and Mikey clashing, especially since the two weren't in the best of mental health. He joined Leo and could see from his face that he, too, felt the same way.

But the commotion died down, fewer things clanked and clattered, and soon the ruckus ceased. Splinter's voice thumbed through the Lair but words couldn't be deciphered, and Don and Leo remained in the living room, since what was happening to Mikey was so personal that only a parent could hear the delicate, quivering words uttered from his lips.

They heard soft crying from the room and recollected on the furniture. Abby stirred from the cushion and meekly offered, "I'll go search for his kitty while I look for Mother. It's the least I could do because I miss my kitty, too."

An hour later, Mikey was subdued on Raphael's bed and appeared to be slumbering peacefully. Leo kept watch on him between preparing dinner with Don in the kitchen; Splinter played cards with Abby at the table, and he smiled at the child's confusion during the game. Meanwhile, Splinter was updated on the recent events.

"Two more eggs," Don instructed, tiredly sighing and waiting for Leo to bring the food. "Shouldn't be too much longer."

"Don't use so much grease," Leo pointed at the frying pan, "it's no wonder your eggs are always slipping off the plates."

"I like his eggs," Abby chimed from the table, "I always feel energetic!"

"That's called flatulence," Leo grinned and handed her cutlery, "and it works differently as you get older. Set these out, please."

Splinter flipped over two cards and placed them back on the table. "My sons, do you remember the Wu Xing?"

Don wiped his hands on a towel draped across his shoulder; he thought for a minute before answering. "Yeah, something about five movements or stages, like wood, fire, metal."

Leo poured orange juice into three tall glasses and carefully settled them on the table. He stopped beside his Master. "The Five ancient Elements, a concept in Chinese philosophy. I remember it very well, Sensei. I'll have some tea ready for you soon."

Splinter's whiskers flickered inwardly. "It was presented to me during meditation and I believe it will give us a glimpse into Michelangelo's condition."

"I don't know, Master," Don countered, flipping an egg and shaking the pan, "Mikey just might have post traumatic stress. I'm not sure I believe everything Mei Chang told us. Magic and the supernatural are all so rare these days. I'm sure I read something about a few countries policing against it. China was one of them."

"Regardless," Leo pulled up a chair beside Splinter, "it's worth looking into. For Mikey's sake. You said yourself, Don, that he broke down outside the apartments and then said he was fine. He appeared okay and then jumped into a rage. Would a mental disease work that fast?"

The food was plopped on the dishes and served around the table; Don joined the family and argued, "Yes, it would, in fact." He crunched on a piece of buttered roll and garbled, "He's been through a ton of stuff, and some I'm not sure we even know about. Let's not go jumping into a witch's cauldron just yet."

Leo was ready to argue more, but Splinter flicked up his bony fingers to silence the brothers. Abby hunkered down, chewed on her egg, and kept her eyes glued to the table. Splinter lowered his hand and sighed, "We need our family together and that includes Raphael. I will not ignore the vision that was given to me. The Five Elements of fire, earth, metal, wood, and water are a structure to the cosmos and have been used for many, many years in martial arts and medicines. It will not be the only option we look into," he turned to Donatello and bowed, "I promise. Retrieve your brother and begin the footwork."

"It's possible that Mei Chang will know more," Don returned the bow and glanced at Leo. "After we find Raph -"

Leo nodded. "We'll find Mei and get answers."

"May I go?" Abby asked behind a fork. "I need to find Mother-"

"No," Don and Leo snap without looking up at her and continued eating. The warm elder rat was the only who returned her deflated, withered look.

"I will need your company here, and I am certain your mother will return soon. I can feel it," he crooned to her, retiring to his hot food.

Abby had already finished her portions and sat in silence.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, the clouds multiplied and guarded the sun. It was morbidly frigid with a steady wind and it forced many citizens back in-doors or at least under substantial shelter. Combined with the nasty weather, the day seemed unnaturally long and frustrating to its tenants and gatekeepers.

Raphael had never returned back inside, or so she knew. She actually dozed off during the weather news as soon as Mr. Dooney and Charlotte didn't stir, either. It felt like she slumbered for ages but only for a few minutes. She checked the wall clock and slithered to the front door, seeing if Raphael was still on the steps, maybe frozen to them or something. Well, he's a ninja, she chuckled, and probably sneaked in and out without a noise at all. Still, she wished he had notified her. Her hands chattered over the doorknob and frame, and she knew most of it wasn't from the cold. The tremors and her mild symptoms were flaring up again, and all through her thoughts and dreams, Emyrs debated whether she should continue looking for Mei, or whoever whatever she was looking for, or go back to the Jones and swallow her pride. She wasn't a crime fighter or superhero, and she just probably made the biggest mess of her life thus far.

Hopefully, Abigail would take her back.

And when she realized she was staring a hole into Raph's old spot and that the wind was crushing her eyeballs, she quickly closed the door tight, and the thought of two children without any supervision suddenly hit her. Scott and Red! She whirled down the hallway and didn't see the children in their bedroom. Bathroom? Empty. Kitchen, too. Even the pantry closet held no rambunctious children, and the last room of the house, Monica's old room and the adjacent tiny bathroom, were empty, too. They must have escaped outside, she feared, and probably without the proper winter wear. Kids! BOYS! She hopped in Merrick's large tattered coat and whisked out the door, hoping it didn't disturb the others.

A street Monkey Non flagged her down as soon as she could stand on her two feet after almost slipping down the steps. "You need help, Mama? I help you. I help you," and he repeated it several times and made her nervous. He smelled like garbage and looked high as a kite. "You live here? You have warm place?" She wasn't certain if Monkey guy was really stoned or mentally incompetent. Either way, he was trying to help her back up the steps and that wasn't where she needed to go.

She wanted to avoid speaking since her accent always mucked up everything. "No, this way!" Emyrs pointed to her right and jerked her arm from his lackluster grip. "Thank you. Mama is good!"

"You are like me!" he grinned, flashing all kinds of discolored teeth and making a big show on the icy sidewalk. "Do you like living with humans, Mama? They are exciting and scary. I would go back to circus if they let me. They cleaned my ears and gave me food."

She cleared her throat. "Do you need food, uh... Papa?"

His beady eyes dazzled through a sad smile and he gave Emyrs a noogie. "Nooo, German Mama! Go inside and be warm. Claude don't want Mama hurt."

"Mama needs to look for her kids," she chuckled, patting on his matted cheek, "so I must go the other way."

"Your eyes must be open at all times, Mama. All times, eyes open," he pointed to the sky and walked in the opposite direction, "life change so fast, Claude's head spin and he tumble. Strong, Mama. Strong. You are good Mama."

Claude the Monkey Non hummed a few bars and drifted away, still mumbling to himself and saying mama. She frowned at the memory of his sad face but needed to quickly resume her hunt.

She hadn't noticed a gated alley next to the house before, and the gate was unlocked. Following motherly instincts, she knew the boys were behind the house and getting into mischief. The little alley was chilly but not as frighteningly cold as on the sidewalk. She followed the trail of scattered trash and listened to the thin, hollow air. The first thing she would do to those boys is threaten them with time-out with Raphael; that would scare them most of all. She finally reached the back garden but what she found, however, was far more disturbing, and the flames behind her eyes glowed bright.

Fear pierced her body and not a single weapon on her person.

* * *

Angel's normally silky black hair was curled and glittered up that afternoon. She checked her face in a pocket mirror and snapped it shut. She chewed on a breath mint and glared back at a gawking Raphael. "What's your problem? Take a damn picture!"

"This ain't right," he muttered and spat on the ground. "Not at all."

"You need a breath mint, babe?"

He scoffed, "No!"

"Then shut up!"

"You shut up!"

She readjusted her bra, stood from their table, and stomped towards the shop door. "Stupid C cups! Get on my nerves. Like YOU."

He scrambled through his wallet and left a few dollars. Trailing behind her like a madman, Raph scowled, "That was my last few dollars for a while. Why are you so cheap? You got money!"

"My GRANDMA left me money, dork. I work for my stuff! And I only bought a club sandwich!" Her black snow boots drummed on the ground, and she pranced like a diva, drawing eyes from all walks of life. Raphael didn't know where he went wrong down the years; it just wasn't right seeing Angel act like a …...girl.

He almost got hit by a Feline Non blazing past on a bicycle, and she screeched at him, "Move it, you slow ass reptile!"

"Eat dog shit!" his voice thundered through the streets.

Angel rolled her eyes, waiting for the light to change. "Raph, what do you want? I have class soon."

He caught up with her and suddenly fell serious. "They're coming after Merrick's friends today. I've been thinking about her, and I can't get answers from anyone. I'm ready to say fuck it all and go back to slamming skulls into cars! I got answers then! And I've been babysitting so much that I have to search while they sleep. I'm tired! I came to you because- "

"Calm down," she said, flicking her wrist and herding with the other pedestrians across the street, "I don't know much more than you do, but I have a feeling that her little boyfriend had a lot to do with her disappearance."

He almost stopped dead in his tracks. "Boyfriend?"

She clicked her tongue. "Thought you knew..."

"Well..." his voice cracked, "I'm okay with that, but I didn't KNOW. If I did, I would knee the fucker for information!"

"We all know that you had the hots for Merrick, DORK." She smiled at a guy passing by and waved at him. "No need to hide it behind your Raph-isms."

"That breath mint rot your brain? What the hell are you talking about?" Raph glared at the guy, making him scram. "I might have liked her at one point, but a guy and a girl can't be friends? I have female friends that I don't screw!"

Angel scrunched up her face and stopped for a cup of coffee. "Whatever, Raph. You want a cup of joe?"

"I want answers!"

"Mocha, three shots of vanilla," she sighed and rolled her eyes at him again. She paid for the coffee and took a sip. "You're going to shit bricks in your shell when you hear this, then."

He almost fell into her coffee and she squeaked at him. "Go on!"

"God fucking bless, Raph! You almost burned me!"

"You'll live! Spit it out!"

She huffed, dried off her scarf, and signaled with her eyes for them to keep moving. "Her boyfriend was related to that Nicholas Mason guy, so I think this had to do with politics, Raph. Merrick was always in the front line about Non-human rights and marching with the parades and protests. I don't know where the boyfriend is now, but that's my hunch. And..."

He didn't take his eyes off her, even as they walked down the street. People had to move out of HIS way. "Yeah!"

A nervous twitch bounced off her lips. "And I did some research on Mason, and he's had a history of supporting people who are anti-Non, you know. It's all under the radar because I had to do some DEEP searching. He seems like a cool guy on tv, but he mostly avoids a lot of the racial questions. He's pretty generic with his answers. I don't know. Something smells fishy." She chewed on the lid and avoided his rocky stare. "Will you say something?"

This was the Raphael that she didn't mess or joke around with: the one on a mission, on a manhunt. He broke off the stare, giving her slight relief, but he lurched forward on a dark quest.

She slowed to baby steps and watched the back of his shell as he disappeared. "Be safe," she whispered into her coffee.

* * *

"Red..."

"'Myrs," the little red-head boy, puffy faced with bloodshot eyes, squirmed. Two older boys had pinned his skinny arms and legs on the ground. It seemed like Red had given up with struggling, too. "Stay away. They'll beat you up." His voice cracked but for someone in his peril, he sounded so... calm.

Emyrs was exploding with rage inside her chest. Scott Snaggletooth was standing next to an ebony-skinned, muscular young man whose face was painted with hate while he waved around a shimmering pocket knife. Scott's young face melted into anxiety, and she could tell his eyes held an uncertain future. If Scott was involved, which it appeared to be true at that point, she would find it difficult to forgive him. The other two boys on the ground were lighter skinned, a brunette and a blonde, but exhibited such obnoxious looks in her direction, like they wanted to hurt her, too.

"Nothing going on out here, sweetie," the ringleader with the knife leered; he lowered his face and glared at her through flashing dark eyes. She shuddered inside her coat. "Just hop on back inside your doghouse and you won't get hurt."

She clenched her jaw and decided to ignore the threat. "Scott," Emyrs snapped and he immediately paid attention, "you're helping these men hurt your friend?"

"He's not my friend!" said Scott, his blue eyes almost covered in shadow and his hair messy from the wind, "None of you are my friends. These guys got my back!"

"How long will it be before you're in Red's position?"

The ringleader stepped over Red's body and jerked the knife inches from Emyrs' beak. "Who told you to speak? He doesn't like your kind – shock HORROR! - so that's why he's with us. We don't need you in our system!"

He waved the knife around like a toy wand, and it scared her, no doubt. All of what was happening scared the life out of her, but sweet little Red needed rescuing. She didn't know how to fight hand-to-knife combat, and they were all just kids, probably; they didn't know any better and all came from broken homes with no mothers making them warm pies and giving them good night kisses. She felt the trembling in her hand again, and the noise in her head gained volume and bass, making her sick to her stomach. What a fantastic time to be ill...

"Emyrs, don't you dare feel sorry for these assholes," Raphael crept around the corner, hands buried deep in his pockets. "I can see it in your face, but Thumbtack in front of you will cut you up in a heartbeat. Fuck 'em all."

The ringleader shot a hearty laughter in Raph's direction. "The undesirable knows my name! I'll cut your vile woman, mother, or whatever she is, to rancid little pieces. Scott says you're into martial arts. That doesn't scare me one bit." He carved the knife surface-deep into his thick skin, erupting blood, and grinned with his tongue hanging out. "That's what we're going to do to this little Non-Lover on the ground here. We don't like HIS kind either."

Raph curled his upper lip at the sicko and chewed on a toothpick. "Well, go on and start the show, Houdini. Don't have all damn day." He leaned on the edge of the apartment, one foot holding his weight and didn't seem all that bothered. Emyrs knew of her turtle friend's past street life but she didn't think he would act this calm.

So, she needed to do something then. And soon.

Red struggled under the two boys' weight the moment Thumbtack turned and edged closer to the kid's body. Raph wrinkled his forehead and broke his toothpick in half. He ricochet the pieces on the ground and nodded in Scott's direction, "I hope you got everything you needed out of the house, Scott," he said, and Scott's eyes widened, surprised to hear his true name come out of Raph's mouth, "because you're evicted. As of now."

"Like he CARES!" Thumbtack crowed and knelt beside Red's trembling body. "He doesn't need you, *****. None of you!"

The brunette boy tied a red bandana around Red's mouth, rolling it tight and warbling his screams. Brimming tears, Emyrs swallowed a rocky lump in her throat and jerked her arms in protest. She felt an object in one of the coat pockets and slowly wrapped her fingers around cold metal. Her heart soared and almost burst out of her chest as she raised their miracle in the form of a sleek pistol at the ringleader's head. She switched off the safety and cocked it back, ready to fire at any time.

"I'm still not scared!" sung Thumbstack, arching his head back like a puppet, "Because I have friends in low places."

"Not anymore," Raph bellowed and popped his neck. "Took care of them before I got here." Thumbtack's face grew a little pale. Raph idly walked towards the anxious ringleader and said, "I know you don't like me or her or any Nons, but I don't give a shit. I don't like you either. The kind that thinks their shit doesn't stink and goes around branding kids like cattle. You go ahead and try to touch that boy. It'll either be a bullet or a fist. I'm betting that I'm faster."

Thumbtack smirked and shut his knife back in its holder. "I wasn't counting on you to be here, but it is a little more _exciting_ now."

Raph scoffed and balled his fists. "A lot more _exciting_,"mocking the same tone as his enemy.

"Waffle! Waffle!" Charlotte's playful voice bounced off the alley walls and alerting the backyard bullies and the heroes. Charlotte whizzed around the corner, rosy cheeks and glimmering eyes, "Mr. Dooney stole my candy and Red promised to color with me, Waffle!"

Raph didn't count on Charlotte stepping into the war zone or revealing her pet name for him, and it was exactly what Thumbtack needed to turn the tables, and so violently were they turned that a stealthy warrior such as Raphael didn't notice that his leg had been stabbed until it was plunged a couple of more times. Thumbtack was a slick little street weasel, and only a handful of times did punks ever get a strike at him. Sometimes they did, and Raph's ego took a bigger hit than his physical wounds.

The Green Muscle's screams frightened Charlotte and she tore back up the alley, covering her eyes and reciting the emergency number. Thumbtack claimed a swift, easy victory and flew from Raph's immediate grasp.

"I've wanted to do that for a while now, Champ!" he squawked, extending his arms in a show of triumph. "You parade these streets like you own it, and you're only just a small fry in this metropolis. You enjoy the pain? The same pain you've inflicted on others for years? Who died and made you Big King, huh?"

Limping slightly, Raph soaked in the boy's words and bit his lower lip, alleviating from the throb. Thumbtack further relished in his moment and pointed the crimson blade at Raph, "That's just the start of things to come. Wait for round two-"

An intense metallic ring launched through the alley and nothing but silence fell in its wake.

The universe stopped in Raph's eyes, and his sturdy heart thudded in his chest for seconds after the gunshot. Relief swelled through his body once he realized no one in the yard was dead.

"No need to get carried away, Em!" he griped and shifted his weight. She didn't answer and held the same firing position: dead square on Thumbtack the Target, who had covered his head in fear.

"Shit! This ain't fair! She has a gun!" the blonde guy shrieked.

Raphael took advantage of the downtime and barreled through the blonde guy to reach a cowering Thumbtack behind him. Emyrs lowered her gun and watched the poor kid get crushed against a brick wall. Raph threw in a punch for good measure, and once Thumbtack's body crashed on the ground, Raph kicked the knife out of reach.

"You little pricks wanna pick up where your leader left off? Be my guest."

The boys exchanged fearful glances, scrambled getting their snoozing leader out of dodge, and bolted from the scene. Scott hugged the wall of the next apartment building and looked back and forth between Raphael and Emyrs, who tended to Red. He almost curled into a ball and wanted to vanish into the wall. The two glaring Nons reminded him of his old foster parents.

"So this is it?" Scott swallowed, creeping along the wall.

Raphael nodded, closing his eyes momentarily. "Yup."

Emyrs was on the verge of mediating but Scott high-tailed out of the alley, and she was more worried about Red, who snuggled under her coat and bear hugged her. She shoveled into his thick red hair and exhaled her worries. Raph leaned on the wall and jerked when he heard the paramedics arrive in the front.

"Just my damn luck," he mumbled and thumped the back of his head against the wall.

Emyrs unhooked herself from Red's death grip and peered up at Raph, calmly responding, "You need first aid, Hero."

He grinned and looked away, "A little bleeding won't kill me."

"The gun wasn't in the coat before. I didn't put it there. What-"

"It was in the cards." A little cocky flash in his eye, but it was interrupted by his moaning and two paramedics crowding around them.

"Waffle!" Charlotte appeared behind the paramedics like a fairy, "I did it! You won't die! Also, Ms. Darling is here with her big pretty rock!"

Emyrs and Raphael groaned in harmony. The day just needed to _finally_ end.


	48. Chapter 44 :: Peace

_Synopsis: Broken individuals Raphael and Emyrs shared revealing memories on icy footsteps. Raphael is determined to find more information about Merrick's disappearance and is certain that she's already dead. He asks Angel if she knows anything, and everything points to Hunter Mason. When Raphael returned to the safe house, a gang, involving Scott, had taken Red hostage and threatened to brand him for being a "Non" lover. Raphael was caught off guard for only a moment during the fight, thanks to Emyrs' quick reflexes, and he controlled the situation, but not before the paramedics and the social worker were notified of the incident._

_In the Hamato household, Mikey snapped when he found out that nobody had searched for Rosie. Splinter was the only one who could calm him down._

_Leonardo and Donatello were reminded of Wu Xing, five ancient Chinese elements from Splinter, who believes it is connected to Mikey's condition. They vow to find Mei Chang and seek more answers from her._

* * *

Raphael's best element was in the middle of chaos. It was automatic and structured. Answer the questions and listen to the responses. He was there in body, and that was about it. Static. That's how it all felt with the paramedics whizzing around people like on a race track, lights flashing from the street, eyes reflecting pain and turmoil, and wondering where else in the world he could be at that very moment. He didn't belong to one particular spot in the city, and it seemed like trouble followed in his footsteps. It was second nature now and almost collateral.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" the male paramedic briskly asked, shoveling equipment into their bags.

Back in the house and on the lumpy sofa, Raphael mumbled, "Just a smoke."

"Think my buddy might have one," he laughed and zipped the bag. "Hold on."

The guy could have walked to Alaska and back, for all Raph knew. His wound was patched and he had a happy drug in his system and probably the reason why he was feeling like a balloon. The paramedics were familiar in this rugged area of the neighborhood and unless a bone wasn't broken or brain splattered on the pavement, they took care of you instead of going to the hospital, lovingly called the Bank Breaker. Raphael didn't have a dime to his name and refused medical care. The wound on his leg? Nothing a few stitches and peroxide couldn't handle; he had done it plenty of times before walking on the streets, and the pain eventually died and scars never hurt anybody.

A brown cigar waved in his face, and the paramedic stood behind it with a cheeky grin. "I had to steal it for ya, pal. Enjoy it and stay outta trouble. Don't wanna see ya for a while."

Raphael didn't remember walking from the sofa to the front steps, but he watched the paramedics finish and slowly drive up the street. He lit up the cigar and relished in the fine tobacco, hearing his own inhales and exhales like a turbine. The calmness shaved off the pain's jagged edges and his ears could hear the street again. He had to remember the name of this cigar brand and pick it up in the future.

"Does that make you feel better, Mister Hamato?"

The social worker had been standing in front of him, and he didn't even notice her right away. Man, he must be a little out of it, or high. He puffed a bit of smoke through his lips and nodded. She wore a cowboy hat with a bunch of beads and fluffy things on it; he honestly wanted to laugh at her.

"You're grinning so I guess you are better. I'm glad you are okay and that you were there to save Red. We're going to look for Scott and -"

Raphael screeched his boot against the ice; Shannon flinched but held a tight smile. "I don't think you'll be able to find him soon, but check with Thumbtack's posse and you might. Don't go sniffing too deep."

Shannon waved through the smoke and retreated up the steps, "I'm not scared of these kids, Mister Hamato. I have a job to do, and if I have to use my advanced ninja skills on them, I will!"

"Ninja?" He almost choked.

She karate-chopped his head and whispered, "HA!" She patted his top while her hand was still sitting on it. "Mister Dooney and Charlotte will be leaving with me. I think Red is in safe hands for tonight. If you need ANYthing, call my personal number. If I don't answer, it's because I'm getting my dog's toenails painted. Don't hesitate to call the police if it's an emergency. You heard me, right?"

Raphael scrunched his face at her dog's awful treatment. "Yeah, I gotcha."

The quirky social worker nipped inside, and Raphael enjoyed the last of his cigar in peace. That's all he craved at the moment. Four boys skidded down the sidewalk, jeering and taunting each other, and their goofy natures reminded him of his brothers. Raph missed them, but he wouldn't admit it. He supposed his time babysitting humans for a friend was over and he needed to get back to business. Mikey had asked several times if any of the brothers would consider settling down and having a family now that the world was different, and Raph always had the same answer: _no fucking way_.

And after these dramatic events at the safe house, the answer definitely hadn't changed.

* * *

Charlotte's cheesy-drizzled fingers poked the number pad on the telephone. Emyrs needed to make a call, but Charlotte declared herself the Queen of the Phone, and Emyrs gladly let the sweet woman take charge. "I got the numbers right!" Charlotte squealed and bounced with the cord phone. "It's ringing, too! I love to hear the ring!"

"Hello?" a male voice answered on the other end.

"HELLO!" Charlotte held the phone away from her face and screamed into the phone. "I'm Charlotte! Have you changed your cat's litter box today?"

Emyrs reached for the phone, but Charlotte latched on to it. The male voice, obviously confused, crackled back, "Cat? Hello? What did you say? Who is this?"

"CHAR-LOTTE! I am Charlotte! What is your name!"

Emyrs recognized the voice right away. "Uhh, I'm sorry I can't understand you. You're fading in and out. Something is wrong with your phone. Please call back."

"WAIT!" Emyrs yelped into the phone. "Donatello! It's me, Emyrs!"

"Come again?"

"Emyrs Fernanda Becker!"

Charlotte chimed in also. "Emyrs Fernanda Becker! Emyrs Fernanda Becker! She likes Red and Waffle and speaks all funny!"

"Emyrs?" Don squawked on the other end. "What's wrong with the phone? Hello? Are you there? All I hear is a bunch of static."

Emyrs fumbled with the cord and pushed her finger against the headpiece socket. "Just old. May I - may I speak to Abigail? Is everything okay there? Can you hear me?"

Don hissed at someone on the other end. "Oh yeah. Everything's right as rain, for the most part. Abby already heard me so here she is. Keep your finger on the socket and she'll be able to hear you."

Charlotte blared, "BYE, DONATELLO! Don't drink out of the milk jug!" and left the phone cord swinging in her wake as she stampeded down the hall. Emyrs plunged into a cold chair.

Abby's sweet voice peeped on the other end. "Hello? Mother?"

Emyrs' heart thundered. She almost couldn't answer. "It's me."

"Are you you?"

"I'm me. Is that you?"

Abby sounded like she was about to cry, "You're alive.." and she covered her mouth momentarily and stammered, "..Mother … where are y-you? I want you here."

"I'm coming back to you. You can slap me or-" she wiped a tear out of her right eye and her finger slipped off the cord, "and we'll go home and I'll get help –." She remembered the cord and quickly pushed it back into the receiver.

"What was that, Mother? You faded out."

Emyrs exhaled and smiled into the phone. "Everything will be okay. I'll be home tomorrow. Will you wait for me?"

She heard muffled crying in the background and another male voice, deeper, mumbling something. Meanwhile, down the hallway, Emyrs witnessed Shannon Darling embracing everyone, including Raphael, in a huge bumbling circle. She couldn't understand anything on the phone and cautiously eyed an approaching Shannon.

Water ran on the other end of the phone, and Abby returned. "I met Mei Chang and she'll be able to help you. I can't, I … can't put you in the hospital again, Mother. That's what they'll do to you again.."

Emyrs found herself in the middle of Shannon's bosom, being crushed and listening to Spanish. Between Abby's sobs on the other end and Shannon's glittering smile, Emyrs felt lost in some kind of twilight zone.

"Mother? What's going on? Hello?" Abby perked and sounded ready to fight on the phone.

"Adios, Emyrs Becker!" Shannon pinched Emyrs' cheeks and ballerina-ed away, her cowboy hat whipping with the motion. Emyrs stared at the spectacle for a few moments and returned to the phone.

"We'll find Mei together, Abigail. Together."

"I want to see you tomorrow. Promise me!"

Emyrs met Raph's eyes in the doorway and swallowed, "You have my word. Good night, my love."

Raph reached for the phone and placed it back on the hook. He leaned on the discolored flowery wallpaper and turned back towards the living room. "They're gone. I need to go, Emyrs. Now. I'll take you home."

She wiped away a couple of old tears and nodded, "We'll be okay."

"No, you're going-"

"I can't go back tonight. Red needs me for the last time, and I need a little peace to clear my head."

He peered down at her trembling body, and suddenly he understood what she meant. Peace. What little time a person has for that one word and what it means. "Lock all doors and windows, and move the phone next to you. Call the police if you need to. I won't be reachable."

She stood and patted his shoulder hard. "You need to be careful. Return to your family in one piece. I'm sure they want to see you soon, too." She walked to the sink and grabbed a glass full of water, guzzling it down like it was her last. She expected him to be gone when she turned back around, but there he stood, holding the gun in his palm.

"I'm not an advocate for these things, but you need it. Just don't use it -"

" - unless I have to. Yeah. Years of training taught me that." She dried the dampness on her chin and joined him at the table.

"Here," Raphael hastily grumbled, eager to get the pistol out of his grip. "Stay out of trouble. You're like a magnet for it lately."

She shrugged and checked the pistol's chamber. He thought it was strange how calm she seemed while holding the mechanism.

"I mean it!" He jabbed his finger in her face, which prompted a stern glare from her hazel eyes. He softened, lowered his finger, and watched her investigate the gun. And he kept watching her. She finally stopped and frowned at him after several awkward seconds.

"It's fine. We're going to be fine. You can go now."

Smugness plastered all over his face, he stormed away, repeating loudly, "Lock up!" and the front door slammed behind him.

The chamber made a loud click as Emyrs snapped it. She fondly looked out the small kitchen window. "Be careful, young man."

* * *

Her trembling little twelve year old hands almost dropped the cordless phone into the sink. She had retreated to the bathroom for privacy, but someone stood outside the door and brushed inside once the tears and sobs began. Leonardo wiped her face clean and exit as quickly as he appeared. Now, she had some time alone for her thoughts and advance on the dilemma. It had been her mother on the phone, and yes, she was returning home soon. Through her puffy, damp cheeks, a smile spread, and she was the happiest she had been in a while. A giggle trickled through her lips, and she covered her mouth over the sink.

Her bright moment was interrupted by a knock on the door; Leonardo stood behind it and instantly lit up once he saw the calm look on her face. "We're packing up and leaving now. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The numbers to reach us are on the fridge. Will you be okay?"

She gulped and held back a hiccup. "I'm more than okay. Thank you."

He nodded at her, "Good night," and walked away. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Abby was bursting inside at reuniting with Mother, but she had patience and could wait until tomorrow. She didn't know HOW she was going to sleep through the excitement, either.

* * *

Nearing sundown, Raphael heavily watched the scores of rich folks, mostly Humans, parade into a conference center, eagerly awaiting their fancy, shiny dinners and waddling in their fat dresses and suits. He didn't care to join any of them; he wasn't jealous of that fact. They were completely devoid of the world around them, of the homeless and starving just around the street corner. Most of them were politicians and the average American's voice, but they knew nothing of street life and what it was like to barely afford a fast food meal. Poor humans were at the bottom of the totem poles, and poor non-humans might as well be carcasses for the vultures to feast.

The medicine had already worn off, making the pain itch and crawl around his leg. He plundered through it and scoped the streets for information. It was just as Angel said to him: Nicholas Hunter Mason and his family had been involved with Merrick's disappearance, and he only gathered that by stitching a handful of clues together. Nobody on the street wanted to talk much. A growl here and a threat there produced little results. If he was feeling up to speed, the back alleys would be littered with broken limbs, but it was his loss and their gain today. All signs definitely pointed to Hunter, who the street rats called "Hun" and rumored that he had a short past with bad blood.

The center doors were soon bolted shut, and Raphael coasted across the street. With every step, his blood grew hotter, despite a chill in the air, and senses more critical, and he was able to push a tiny bubble of doubt out of his mind for the moment. He didn't need anything clouding his mind. The advantages outweighed the bad on that wintry eve.

Security around the building was buzzing, naturally, and he crawled up the next building, a department store, and used it to as a lookout. It was a nuisance to wait for the guards to cycle through their patterns, but the night blossomed over his mission and, now, he could float through the social mingling undetected. He zipped his coat tight and left behind any coins and small items that could give his presence away. For a short moment, he actually chuckled about why April always complained about coins mutating in her purse: a matter so clear to him now that he used currency. The trusty sai below his tattered belt, he kissed a coin, meditated for several seconds, and slithered his way down the building into the hairy situation.

He had never felt more alive than the moment before he successfully evaded the guards through a little side entrance, like a hole in the wall, and was inside the perimeter as the door ticked shut behind his keen footsteps. In their scattered drones, the guards were still completely unaware.

Raphael had dropped in the supply room, an area currently of very little activity. He petted his proverbial good luck and shuffled through mountains of boxes and heavy bags, careful not to bump into anything and torpedo the attempt. A doorway to another room was only inches away from him and behind it, he could hear a lot of kitchen grunts and calls. He scooted behind a shelf near the exit and gave a little more time to scope the joint. Strangely, Raphael was reminded of when the public first called his family a "team of terrapin ninjas" when they mostly did rescue missions and followed a strict code of honor. They didn't always follow the code back in the early days and actually had missions like the one he was doing: espionage, sabotage, and... assassinations but obviously the public didn't know about that. Did he feel any guilt? No. At least he had direction and stability. It had been a life he thought was long gone but was creeping back into reality tonight. His cheeks elevated and excitement flickered in his fingertips. Ready to roll! Ready to do or die.

Nobody had stepped into the room in the last half hour. The noise was dying down a little, too, so he peeked through the doors and only saw a couple of cooks barreling around the stoves. Down a slick, narrow corridor presented another exit and was probably the entrance into the dining area. Panning to his right and left, the coast was finally clear, and he moved with the grace of silk through the swinging doors, passing by a row of stoves and the shiniest cutlery and bowls he had ever seen, and behind the wall, adjacent to a large bank of sinks. Again, not a soul in sight. He could swiftly cross each section and duck behind the giant cutting tables near the front. If somebody barged in before then, the sinks could provide a good hiding spot, providing he wasn't in clear sight down the corridor. Everybody was busy in the dining area or out back taking a breather, maybe. Good opportunity to make a break for it!

When he reached the last wall right before the cutting tables, a crowd of waiters barged through the new exit, complaining about their customers and general nonsense. Raphael swept under the closest table before the staff manned the battle stations, and he endured a boring few minutes of mumbles and grumbles. One guy at his table even coughed up heavy mucus and hacked it into the nearby sink. Delicious, the green ninja groaned. The place wasn't any better than a greasy burger joint!

By minute ten and growing antsy, Raphael skated under two more tables and by the time he reached the third, a worker dropped a utensil before he could reach the fourth, and final, one. Raphael stopped breathing for a few seconds as the guy bent down and picked up the knife without looking under the table. Success, Raph resumed his breathing again, but something else plopped on the ground. He waited for the next round, but it seemed like the guy hadn't noticed. Raph took a closer look: a wallet. A really stuffed wallet, too. He snatched it without thinking and peeked inside. His eyes bulged at the abundance of hundred dollar bills, and the opportunity was right there to snatch a few. Would the guy even miss a few hundred with all of the bills he had? He switched to a college ID photo and scoffed at a owl eyed, dark skinned, frizzy hair guy looking back at him. James Carter. What was a college student doing with that much money anyways? He looked like a sniffy little nerd with a talent for taking bad photos. Leonardo's disciplinary voice buzzed in Raph's head, and he snorted, borrowed one of the bills, and slipped the wallet back near Carter's feet. Raph had to be sure to spend the money before his righteous brother found out about it.

Time to move on. He needed a closer look through the doors before making his way through it and dove under a nearby table, hoping to get the golden opportunity soon. Right on cue, a staff member opened the door and KEPT it open, too, talking back at someone in the dining room. There were the registers and another employee area behind two counters before the row of fancy tablecloths. Soothing music streamed from the area, probably not the best backdrop for what he was doing, but a nice melody anyways. He realized he was clenching his jaw tight and relaxed again as the employee shuffled into the kitchen.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention, please!" a sharp male voice crackled under a microphone from the area. Ohhh, perfect, Raph cheered in his head; the lights would dim and employees should stop moving. In fact, he noticed the staff's feet marching through another exit. Another break, he assumed.

Another few seconds crawled by with the announcer outside greeting the crowd and blah blah blah. Raphael braced himself for another dive through the swinging doors, and then BAM! An employee came out of nowhere and dropped every dish from her hands. She fussed and whined, and he used her as a scapegoat to evade the kitchen and wiggle into the dining room's darkness. He found solace under a counter with no one present. They were all shuffling around the kitchen door, whispering harshly back and forth.

"It is a privilege to be here tonight in front of our fine candidates and elected men and women of the great City of New York.."

He had to find Hunter in the audience somewhere. The stage was a stone's throw away to his left and only one spotlight glittered around the emcee; he squeezed around the counter and hunkered down as low as he could go. His eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be, but there was nothing else he could do except try his damnedest. Little balls of light illuminated from each table, so he was thankful for small favors. Looking across the many tables and bodies, he sneered at the squeaky cleaned faces and hot-pressed clothes. Mostly he wondered how any of them would fare on the cold streets that they so loudly claim to protect. Right, he scorned, as he quickly checked behind him. In the sea of faces, he only caught a couple of Nons, a Tiger and some reptile dude. He wondered if they had turned their back on their own kind, mingling with the upper class and not doing a damn thing for others.

Raphael was sure he caught a glimpse of Hunter in the middle. Of course the jackass wanted to be surrounded by others; it would make it harder for any threats. Raph wanted some of his good luck back and even flirted with the idea of pulling a crazed man move and just going for the strike. It's not like any of the rent-a-cops could catch him. Who pays attention to their surroundings? Those folks happily ignore beggars on the street everyday.

He blurred through a list of possible attacks in his mind from shutting off the spotlight once Hunter made it on stage to even waiting for the muck to leave the building. All he had to do was find a nice little spot in the back and hide. He entertained the thought of talking to the guy, finding out who else works under him, was involved in the dealings, and so forth. It would be satisfying to know where Merrick's body was located and then slicing Hunter's cocky little throat. That was the next step of action: the execution. Oh, _playtime; _the fun stuff. He liked saving the best for last. Whatever style tickled his fancy at the right time, he would choose it on the spot.

After a solid hour of more humdrum, polite chat, and introducing cheeky officials and hearing their speeches, Raph jumped when footsteps approached to his right. He ducked under the counter again and waited for the threat to pass. Two employees chatted about who was going to screw who after the gig, something he didn't care to hear. When he was a teenager, he obsessed over sex and everything with it, but growing older gave him a sense of apathy. Maybe he was turning into Leonardo more everyday, or maybe sex brought with it too many complications. He didn't need any woman crying to him and no need to answer to anybody, either. He remembered Donatello explaining over and over to the family that they were more than likely sterile but not to go and test that theory on just anything that walked. Their lives were already handicapped and plagued by their past. Raphael didn't want a new set of madness lumped in the old. Besides, girls get clingy, and the ones he wanted were so out of his league he could never get a chance.

Speaking of girls, he hoped Emyrs remembered to lock those damn doors and not answer them if someone knocked. It was a see-saw effect with that old lady when it came to trusting her. The less people around to worry about, the better, but he supposed there was too much invested in her. Why didn't she go back with her daughter? Red isn't even hers! Did she stay for his sake? Raph didn't need a mother or a babysitter, and he vowed to set the record straight when he saw her next. _Go home, Emyrs, and sit down! Stop pointing a gun at folks and pretending to be a superhero! I got this superhero stuff! _

_I don't want you to wind up like Merrick!_

He mellowed and moved his dead arm to another spot; his mind traveled back to the day's crazy, nerve wrecking events. After it all fizzled away, he thought about seeing the old turtle lady on the steps during a peaceful moment between storms. She didn't seem so old then. Maybe he never really saw her that way. Each person close to him created a different feeling. Raphael didn't know how or why some meetings intensified more than others. He dismissed it quickly. No time now for that mess.

The microphone popped again, and the emcee continued, "Please welcome our main guest and who you've all been waiting to hear tonight, Hunter Nicholas Mason." The place erupted in applause, mixed in with a few cheers. Raph wiggled his finger in the air pathetically.

As Raph resumed his spot around the counter, he glared at the massive man waddling on stage, shaking hands and selling a winning smile. The people loved him, even the two Nons in the audience with their standing ovation and constant applause. This job would be easier if nobody liked him, Raph groaned, and flinched slightly whenever employees hustled over the counter. He listened carefully to their chatter.

"Have you seen his commercials? I'm not sure what the message means. Is he for or against integration?"

"Revolutionary Citizens Party. Sounds like a _for_ to me."

The first employee continued with a hint of worry, "But the ads talk about humans and human birth and just.. human growth in general. Not a single Non in them. It's weird. I don't know how to feel about it. I have a lot of Non buds."

A glass clinked above Raph's head and someone caught it before it tipped over the edge and onto the snooping turtle below. "You worry over nothing. Listen to the guy and keep doing your research, Paige. Gotta get these drinks to table eighteen. Come on."

They scampered back to their jobs, leaving Raph chewing on their conversation. He hadn't been anywhere near a television or radio in the last week to even know what they were talking about, but it justified his suspicions. His eyes crawled back to the stage where Hunter was about to speak.

He adjusted the microphone stand to reach his mouth. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," his thick, bassist voice collided with the system, "The campaign has been running smoothly, efficiently thanks to my wonderful staff, colleagues, and family who support me. Only just a year ago, I was a salary man with big dreams for this city and its people, all people, and one morning I woke up and decided to facilitate my aspirations and..." he stretched his hands to the audience, "look at me now, Ma." The audience cackled and he lowered his hands and rummaged them in his pockets. Raph noticed how comfortable the man seemed in that element. "It's no question that there is turmoil and confusion on our streets, and all around the world. We can't do much for the world right now, but I am dedicated to starting it here in our fine city. We have the best team who can obtain resources and with the talented efforts combined, we will push forward the next generation of innovators and elected officials who will carry on with our great cause. My sincerest hope is that in the next ten, even twenty years, the problems we have now will no longer exist, and we're a self-preserving society with a more dynamic way of handling future adversities. We can do this, right?"

Several people agreed, cat called in the audience. Hunter squinted in the spotlight and pointed in the call's direction. "Right! I am honored to be among such fine citizens tonight. The food has been superb, and the Lalique staff has been phenomenal. I will be happy to discuss any questions or concerns anyone might have... after dessert, of course."

Raphael was glad the chump didn't shoot to be a comedian. He could happily lance his sai right through Hun's fat skull and no one would see it through the half-eaten lobsters and wine bottles. While the audience muttered and laughter faded, Raph watched Hun exit the stage and ask an employee something; the employee pointed to his right, and Hun beamed all of his pretty teeth and trotted to the right. Raph's heart raced as the moment was certainly making its pit stop, and before the lights could change, he dashed in the same direction. The emcee had returned to the stage, squealing the microphone, cleared his throat, and blabbed, "While you enjoy the rest of your meal and any dessert, tonight's entertainment will be presented by the F. Coleman Band and a special guest singer, Miss Nolene Nadell.."

Everything else the emcee said faded into a hum as Raph followed Hun's bulky, but surprisingly light footsteps. Raph stopped at the men's bathroom as Hun proceeded inside. The small lobby was dark and quiet with a few big potted plants; he ducked behind the extravagant leaves for only a minute. Time was ticking away now and he needed to take a breath and then dive deep.

Entering the bathroom was a breeze, and the door didn't make any noise as he stepped inside and immediately fell light on his chunky boots. If only he could drop the clothes and freely move, this would be an even swifter job, but he was so used to clothes now that it didn't matter. A medium-sized crevice before entering the stalls provided a nice cover. The urinals were behind stalls, too, and the bathroom had that muted little light like on the tables. Convenient. Hun's mammoth feet were planted in the second stall, and while the man finished his business, Raph drilled over the plans one more time: hide in the darkness, make the small talk, and go for the kill. Avoid his huge arms and legs and do it before another person buzzes in. He bit his lower lip, eclipsed into the tight corner across the mirror, and pep talked himself to death.

_Rattle rattle_. That would be the roll. Toilet flushed and gurgled. Feet scooted across the floor and Hun cleared his throat, followed by the lock, door squeak, and more walking across the tile. Sounds that were mighty in his ears and he meditated more as Hun washed his hands. The moment had finally arrived.

Water flickered all over the sink, and Hun's backside looked like another wall. He shut off the water and dried his hands with a handkerchief he yanked from his pocket. His voice broke through the silence. "You're a little late, aren't you?"

Was that cow talking to Raphael? He didn't even blink in the shadow.

Hun leaned over the sink and patted his forehead. "I wanted to keep my speech short since I tend to overheat under lights. The added benefit is being able to speak to you, Mr. Terrapin."

One stern golden eye flickered from the half-light in the corner. Raph was only there to get answers and finish the job. He decided to keep his mouth closed.

The handkerchief tucked back in his pocket, Hun watched Raph's figure through the mirror. "You currently hold a grudge, and I can understand why." One hand danced in the air and the other nestled in his pants pocket. "Your friend sniffed in my business, and I calmly tried to reach an agreement with her. However," he held his hand up, "I did not have anything to do with her disappearance."

Raph didn't recognize his own gravelly voice leaving his lips. "All politicians lie."

Hun curled the corner of his lips and whirled on one foot to face Raphael. They burned into each other's faces momentarily. "I'm well aware of that, Mr. Terrapin. I'm aware of a lot of things, and I have nothing against you coming here. Not at all. My partners, on the other hand, aren't as relaxed as I am about these things. I want to believe that everyone has a little good in them." He pulled a shiny block from his other pocket, possibly a cell phone, Raph studied. Hun raised and stretched out his arm so Raph could get a better look: a blurry video of the stage with the lady's singing thumping the bathroom walls.

"The lady on stage tonight isn't too bad. She needs more practice, but I believe she has the guts to chase her dreams, too. Miss Nolene Nadell," he slowly introduced and then watered his lips hurriedly. "Some say her name is Alisa, a spunky lizard lady from the Cathouse. A woman of many talents, I see."

Raph's visible one eye frowned harder. Damn, _damn_! What was Lisa _doing_ there!

"So," the cell phone dropped in his jacket pocket, "you're a pretty intelligent guy, and even though you were here to do a very nasty thing to me, I'll give you a heads-up. That little safe house you were guarding is being cleaned out tonight. It might be in your best interest to return there and claim what belongs to you. I cannot control what other people do."

Raphael didn't move, but he was gripping his sai so hard he could feel his knuckles cracking.

"Ms. Nadell will be able to walk out of here, unharmed, tonight. Now if _I_ knew you were here the whole time, how many others know about it, too? You're surrounded, Mr. Terrapin, but I have the authority here. Go."

If only looks could kill... Raphael Hamato fucked up. He fucked up good, too. Obviously, Hunter Mason was no ordinary politician and was gravely underestimated. If the guy was that smart, he could hold up his end of a physical fight, too. _No need to be a hot-headed ninja now_, he cursed himself as Hun stepped back to the sink. Raph hurried out of the room with half of his tail between his legs. He made no attempt to hide anymore, either. The staff's shocked faces blurred in his vision as he stomped through the kitchen. By the time he reached the back door, he angrily punched through a stack of flour bags, not worried how they tumbled to the ground or the various screams from bewildered employees on their fifth break.

By saving another life, he endangered others. All in a day's work, he growled, and cut through the city as fast as his terrapin legs would take him.

* * *

"When I wake up tomorrow, will you be here, 'myrs?" sweet Red muttered under the blankets. He really hadn't said two words since the Scott incident, and it surprised Emyrs. She folded her fresh pair of clothes and took a seat on the bed.

"Is that what your mommy did to you?" She leaned forward and rested her hand on his covered leg.

The only answer he gave was a twinkle in his green eyes. She patted his leg and struggled to give a smile. "I'll be here. I've been here this long, and tomorrow, we'll make sure you have a better place to stay with loving people all around you."

"But," he choked, "I want to stay with you. Can I go to your home with your fat cat and I can play with Annabelle."

Emyrs snickered at the name and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, little man. Tomorrow's another day." She grabbed her clothes and heard him spit out a good night before the door closed on his worried face. Honestly, she didn't have the energy to deal with any more problems. A hot shower was needed, and privacy. Blessed privacy was so needed. She double checked all of the doors and windows, even sneaked a quick peek outside, and retired to her quiet bathroom.

The disgusting clothes stuck to her body, and she tossed them between the sink and toilet, with her underwear falling IN the toilet. The toilet wasn't bolted on the floor properly and rocked as she did her business in the nude. Sexy. And there wasn't any toilet paper so a dirty piece of clothing it was. After a good hand washing, Emyrs Becker stared long and hard into the mirror: small wrinkles around her eyes and corners of her mouth but not too bad. Hideous bags under her eyes though, eesh! It was no wonder she didn't scare anybody off with those things. Her beak felt a little crooked, if that was possible; it had always felt that way to her. She patted her cheeks and made a weird face at the mirror, then promptly scared herself.

Time for the body check. Legs are still there, functional; chunky, puffy hips that could give birth to a walrus were robust, and the plastron and shell were intact. She was sagging a little with age but riding a bike all the time at Home kept her in decent shape. She could do better with her fitness, though. Remembering the ripped Hamato boys and Lisa's slender curves shrunk her confidence; they were all young hellions anyways, she whined, and didn't have a teenage daughter to raise. What about Kuma? He was a stout rat man for his age.

The confidence-O-Meter then pummeled. Emyrs retreated to the tub and hid behind the curtain in shame.

She lightly moaned at the hot water massaging the top of her head and pouring down her face. A simple pleasure such as warm water was forgotten in all of the chaos. Too many voices and too much confusion. Her head constantly pounded, but so many clouds had departed from the mind. With the clouds came another urge and one that had long died ago. Medicine helped but it killed things at the same time, buried them deep. Something tingled near her bottom torso and her hands pressed against the wet, stained wall. She titled her head back and enjoyed it more. The tingle wasn't going away; it intensified. Looking down at the drain, she rocked side to side, washing her shell, and she spread apart her legs to get a better grip.

One hand slipped off the wall and took on a life of its own, gliding down her right leg and finding a new home. Fleshy warmth. The rhythm. Bright colors behind her closed eyes. Sunshine, flowers, and more rhythm. Run the marathon, lady. Taste the sweet adrenaline. Feel the energy and excitement. Live again. Faster rhythm, faster. Toes curled. Legs tensed. Finish the race. Almost there, almost there. Where is that exploding sensation? Come on, come on. Sunshine, flowers, rainbow, tongue, a touch, a moan, and …. out of hibernation, the mute feelings burst through like diamonds behind her eyelids.

Emyrs rested her head against the wall, breathing quickly and legs shivering. The water was chilling so she needed to enjoy her afterglow while cleaning.

The shower was soon over, she dressed in better clothes, and saw a better representation in the mirror: a fresher lady and a little more confident. She didn't feel so dead anymore.

_Thump, thump_. She stopped rubbing the towel over her head. It happened somewhere in the house. She stared at the doorknob and waited for another sound.

_Thump, thump, THUMP_. Worse that time. She was probably being dumb for what she was about to do but she did it anyways. "Hallo? Red? Are you okay?"

Immediately, a distressed male voice ripped through the walls, "EMYRS! STAY IN THERE!"

She backed away and flinched at every thumping and crashing noise that was happening outside the door. Peace had been short-lived.


	49. Chapter 45 :: Machine

_Synopsis: Just as he was feeling connected to his family and friends again, the stressful current events keep pushing Raphael away. It became too much, and he reverted back to his old ways of dealing with problems. He sneaked into a dinner party held for Hunter Nicholas Mason and soon learned that it was all for nothing; Hunter knew Raphael was there to do dirty business, and Hunter was ready to dish it back. Raphael's plans were thwarted when he learned that Lisa was performing on stage and was used as blackmail against him. Raph is freed but leaves outraged, especially after Hunter warned him to go back to the safe house and "take care of his business"._

_Emyrs and Abby reconnected over the phone and promised each other to work on their communication. Feeling better than she has in a while, Emyrs enjoyed a hot shower and a deep introspective, in peace._

_However, it was cut short by crashing sounds outside the bathroom and a distressed man's voice warning her to stay where she was._

* * *

_A few moments earlier_-

His feet and hands cascade through the house's curtain of darkness; the floor, only a shadow's touch, and his eyes and ears fall victim to a tiny sound from the east corner. The very molecule of each brick in the building should be thankful for his presence, for he gives the utmost attention in every mission, every job. No, the nine to five malarkey was the job; this was a hobby. And it twisted his intestines delightfully. His multifunctional uniform, save for his vest, fused with the night and its mysterious invitation.

Water rushed in a room, from the same direction, and swiftly, he propped his ear to the door and listened deep.

Small bursts of thrills emitting from the room infected his wrists first. Always the wrists first. Then, they snake up his veins and milk through the pores. Addicting, insatiable. He salivated and his wrists swelled from the excitement. The infiltration, investigations, and what could ultimately be called as snooping by the average person, controlled the strings of the red-headed puppet named Martin Chaplin.

A little tremor erupted in his teeth, as more noise trickled from the bathroom. He was informed that the house had been a safe haven mostly for Non-humans, and though nobody knew it and he would immediately refute the claim should it be revealed, Chaplin was dangerously addicted to the Other Kind. Their mouths, skin, breath, and juices varied wildly from humans, and after the first night at a bar in June, he never went back to his own. That was the curse others hummed to their associates, 'one night, and you're tight', and Chaplin, being the risk taker, challenged it.

The first, Sasha, a Fox Non with an insatiable appetite for red headed men, and she nearly burned his insides to smoking pellets. Chaplin retaliated, and in a fury of passion, ripped the tip of her left ear, and he walked around with a limp for two weeks. He had tasted her fruity blood and ate her like a beast. The man desired more and vowed to push the next ones until the vines shriveled.

They had no names, the resulting five, and one no longer had a life. That was the last one. Killing him was too easy, and it didn't help that he was young too. He didn't like the young ones anymore. Boring. The only good thing from that easy situation was tying the dead body to the back of a truck and fueling a racial war. Not bad, he chuckled for days, but it meant curbing his appetite a while longer and hanging low. Too much time had passed, and he was itching for another opportunity again.

Who was behind the door, he wiggled his fingers, anticipation seeping from the tips, and they would already be naked since they were in the bathroom: a very nice bonus, although not quite as adventurous.

Over the water, just barely, he heard a soft pitch. Female, he smiled, and his teeth shook more as what sounded like rhythmic little moans coming from her lips. He yearned for them to be louder, more forceful, and he squeezed his wrists in an act of defiance.

Behind him, he felt a short, stiff breeze.

"A goddamn creeper, just my luck," the rough voice, caked with phlegm, growled. "You need to go jack off before I kick your dick in?"

That must be the Terrapin Non, Chaplin grinned, but his voice did nothing for his wrists. It actually killed his mood and flamed his hair a deeper color. Behind an evening full of lust with the Other Kind, a dynamite fight was another one of his thrills in life. The hitman was certain the Terrapin Non could make or break the night.

Either way, it would be an interesting night.

Raphael sighed with enough enthusiasm to shave a goat and muscled in a punch, but Chaplin could have been nothing but a ghost with the way he moved. Pretty good, Raph mused, and peered through the darkness, squinting slightly for an odd shape between the shadows. It was as dark as shit, and Raph was already fired up from the Hunter disaster. A twinge of guilt stung in his throat, and he knew he had to keep his cool there in the house, with two victims behind closed doors. He already destroyed a really decent shot at getting somewhere over Merrick's disappearance. Repeating the fact in his head only steamed his green cheeks more.

Nothing happened over a span of two minutes except hushed little moans from the shower. Raph shot a curious look at the door and soon shrugged away the mystery. He had bigger problems on his hands.

Besides, the bathroom water finally stopped. His heart bolted up his throat while the water choked down the drain.

A young Chaplin fell twitchy and his excited circuits overloaded. Satisfaction was imminent, and his brown eyes tangled with the blood in his temples. His fingers tight around a dagger's handle, Chaplin lanced through Raph's coat sleeve, knowing exactly where Raphael was in the darkness. Raphael cursed, spat through his teeth, and blocked another whistled attack. His shell scraping the loosely plastered wall, he hurried back to the living room, driving the threat away from the others. The nagging, throbbing wound ticked him off, and he tossed away the pain and left his good manners by the doorway.

Careening between single punches and blade swings, Raph feared Emyrs would step into the chaos and get her wet ass sliced from hell to back, or even worse with the creeper on hand. He just couldn't let anything happen to her, knowing that the perpetrator was right in front of him. This guy was pretty sharp, offensive, and, not to mention, moved like a fucking missile!

Before Raph could form another thought, a thrust of gravity barreled into his stomach, shaving off a bit of his senses, but he quickly recharged and reached for the nearest light, somewhere over his head. He needed some light to see, especially with this asshole's slick moves. Trained or not, he didn't have night vision or a Donatello on hand for cool goggles. Scooting his hand across the wall yielded success finally, but he almost lost what little fingers he had when the creeper propelled a dagger across the light switch.

"Fuck me!" Raph spat and rolled across the floor, knocking over a table, lamp, and an astray full of cigarette butts that found a new home all over the stained carpet. Isolated shoes served as hurdles around the livingroom, and although Raph was holding his own, Chaplin's adrenaline rush raised the stakes. If Chaplin could find an open spot on Raph's body, it was struck, and he became Chaplin's personal punching bag.

Raphael couldn't believe he was letting the creeper get the best of him, and his growing anger through the assaults catapulted him into manic mode. It was every man for himself now, and the best he could do was warn Emyrs through the wall before he tossed away his sanity and headed for the kill.

"EMYRS! STAY IN THERE!"

* * *

A glimpse in the mirror proved the blood drained from her face, and her pupils trembled from the disturbing noises outside the bathroom. That had been Raphael's voice, as distraught as it was, she attested, and courage faded in and out of her chest. Do what the man says or go check on Red? Do what the man says or go check on the scared little boy across the hall? He wasn't a light sleeper and had already been through so much in one day. And her gun was in that room, too, fastened tight in its holder on the chair.

Raphael's fanatical outbursts continued with many collisions and scrapes against the wall and floors. She flinched and tripped over the wet towel as she slowly backed away from the door. The noises were inching closer to her door, momentarily freezing her circulation. Bravery was making another round, and while she wasn't exactly dressed to kill in a red tattered holiday sweater and over-sized khakis, living in fear infuriated Emyrs, since it was all she ever did. She had a child that needed protection, and a friend that needed help.

One huge breath and a silent prayer later, Emyrs jerked the door open and dashed across the building in a blaze of simple glory.

Red opened his door at the same time, and Emyrs saw a glimpse into the boy's scared green little eyes before tripping over a pile of scrambling brawlers on the floor.

Raphael punched Chaplin in his swollen nose and barked, "You never fucking listen, Em!" Chaplin's dilated eyes switched to her wiggling form crawling into the bedroom. "Get out of here! NOW!"

"Red!" she called, arching her neck in an awkward position locating the boy. She finally felt his small cold hands brace hers and helping her to her feet. She could almost block out the fighting right behind her, but another pair of tough, hot hands gripped at her legs before she could close the bedroom door. Raph freed one of his boots and slammed into Chaplin's shoulders, forcing him into the door and swinging it into the inside wall.

Chaplin, a feral appearance strong enough to claim a territory as his own, rebounded, head butted Raph, and spiked the fated dagger into Raph's left hand. His massive screams echoed down the hallway, and Red covered his ears, feeling tears dropping down his cheeks. Emyrs' mind was as solid as mud, and the sadistic intruder saw it in her eyes. In one blink, he was nose to beak, and quick musty breaths fluttered on her face. His hands and tongue infiltrated her skin, following every curve and angle on her body. She heard the sound his mouth made, licking her neck and chin, and it stopped in front of her mouth, a stream of spit connecting between their faces.

"Been a while, Terrapin?" the smooth, calculated voice drummed in her ears, "I heard the moans. I heard your cry.." she shivered, feeling his tongue again on her chin, "...for this," his white teeth glimmered from the light in the window, "...dick. Mommies are sweet berries." His crescendo ended on a haunting note, and he un-buckled his pants; the noise deafened and gradually terrified her.

A tight grunt blurted from Chaplin's lips, and he immediately scowled at Red, who found an open target in Chaplin's groin, grabbed Em's hand and made a break for it. The dazed Emyrs clamored around the doorway and was halted by Chaplin's iron grip around her shoulders. "Run, Red," she stuttered and watched the boy run towards the kitchen, the wrong way honestly, but he was out of harm's direction. His eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, and she closed her eyes tight, wondering if this was a nightmare. She had never been in this situation, never thought she would be in it, and the mental mud wasn't breaking. His hands were everywhere on her, and they unzipped her khakis. Was she going to bend over and take it like a dog? She deserved punishment for her sins but not abuse, and her loving daughter was waiting for her. They were ready to go home and live life again.

She decided that as soon as he was ready to plunge into her, her foot could sack him between the testicles. Strike somewhere, Emyrs. Anywhere!

"Ya ever take a dagger up the ass, chump?"

Raph's glorious attitude returned, and she could feel her heart pounding again. Chaplin's hold on her snapped as he tried to avoid having a bloody dagger shoved up his anus. Her mental sludge finally had a boost, and she tore up the hallway to retrieve Red and safely get out of the house.

Escaping from a safe house, ironically, as she danced around the kitchen, searching for him, and then a little voice from the corner whispered, "In here. Here, 'myrs!" They shuffled into the pantry closet and moved into the furthest corner they could squeeze into, locking arms. She buried her soggy beak into his messy red hair and drowned out the battering outside. Something slid against the wall and tapped her on the head. After calming her nerves, she fingered around the shape, and remembered it was an old, sturdy broom. Emyrs seized it and watched the door like a hawk.

Raphael wasn't yelping or barking as much anymore, and she feared he was on his last legs, even a brute like him would run out of energy and luck. A tinge of guilt hit her, thinking that he should be used to situations like this, but who could ever deal with that kind of upset on a daily or even weekly basis? She had no qualms about helping him the last two times with smug irrational humans, but this one was after her, it seemed. Why? She was nobody special and held nothing of interest: money, diamonds, or secret codes to a vault. Did the asshole just want sex? There were bars for that!

Disgusting, she sneered, curling up with a tense Red by her side. Perhaps the silence outside meant Raphael snapped the intruder's neck or really did shove the dagger south-side, going northeast. The suspense juggled her nerves, and she was sure Red was just as anxious, given that he quivered under her arm. Nothing was happening, absolutely quiet except for their ragged breaths. The brave Raphael had probably been frightened but still faced the threat. She was older than him and felt in some way that she needed to hold her end of the ugly see-saw.

"Red.."

"Don't do it..." he whimpered, tugging on her sleeve.

Emyrs swallowed and grinned in the dark, desperately showing what little strength she could muster, "I have to check on him. Stay here."

"The guy is still here, I know it!" his voice warbled. "He's like a lion. Like my uncle was."

A lion, how true, she nodded to herself and fumbled her hand into his hair, ruffling the strands. "Even a lion can be brought down, Red. Cast the terrible king from his throne." She caressed his damp cheeks and leaned over to kiss them. "I have to rescue our friend and protector."

He choked on a small laugh, "Big Dawg is more like the jester."

A genuine smile appeared across her face, even in such a high stress situation. She chuckled and wrapped both hands around the broom handle. "Even jesters are important."

Frayed from its hinges, the pantry door smashed into the wall and opened a cool breeze of malcontent. Chaplin's shadowed form intimidated those in the closet, and he slithered towards the long string attached to the light switch. Click. Between the light and the dark, her eyesight fizzled but could finally see her predator. The man's eyes painted his personality, and she peered into the soul of a bare, nebulous machine.

His gaze never left her, following her stance and protection in front of Red. She inched as far away as she could, almost squashing Red into the shelf and knocking over several cans. She knew the broom didn't phase him, but she held it like a shield anyways. He didn't reach for her and only watched with those penetrating dark eyes as she and Red finally reached the opening.

"Now, Red. Run."

The boy hesitated, but his tugs stopped and his feet thundered across the kitchen and down the hallway. She hoped to the heavens that he bolted out the front door. While she was in mid-breath, Chaplin leaped, intending to snap her broom handle in half with his elbow, but she dodged in time and struck him in his stomach. He gagged and spat on her, she dropped the broom, slid on broken pieces of the door, and charged through the kitchen. He snapped the broom handle and lunged it towards her as she reached the kitchen doorway. It bounced off the wall phone, a few tiny shards prickling the back of her head. The hallway seemed a thousand miles of darkness, and the bathroom light had been snuffed. In her panic, she tripped over a large object and instead of checking to see what it, or who it, was, Emyrs sprinted for the front door. The trauma appeared as a half-dream to her; she wasn't running at a slow speed nor as fast as she wanted to go. The living room was a kaleidoscope of black and gray, and before her hand grabbed the doorknob, a force pounded against her head, and the swirls dipped to a solid black then into a color explosion behind her eyelids.

"Red..." she moaned, warm blood percolating out of her nostrils, "Raphael?"

No one answered. Infuriated, Chaplin yanked on her arm and catapulted her across the room. A disastrous wound from the glass coffee table averted by her shell, Emyrs searched for any inanimate objects around her aching body, and her fingers caught something off the table and chucked it in the shadow's direction.

A mighty yelp boomed from Chaplin's lips, and he narrowly missed a flying bottle full of thick liquid. He smelled tobacco in the air and promptly felt a sour lump in his throat. Foreplay had reached its limit for him, and his wrists yearned to hear the final breath squeeze from her lips.

She thrashed and kicked his angry hands away from her neck for as long as she could. He firmly planted his knees into her plastron, pushing his much of his weight on her upper body. The treacherous hands found their treasure and coiled around her neck, at first snug, and then constricted tighter and tighter. She dug her short nails into his arms, but the black swirls melted into one mass and into this machine who was once human. He lifted her head as high as it would go, stretching and screeching every muscle she had, jerking it, and preparing it to aim at something hard, and something that would snip the life in her brain.

Three noises popped in her ears and were so faded, she almost didn't realize them. Gunshots. Warm liquid pelleted her face. Those had been gunshots, and as soon as her thoughts formed, Chaplin's upper body slumped on the coffee table, hands retracting slightly around her neck, and she slapped the rest of him off her. There wasn't time to whine about her over-taxed muscles or heart or what the hell just happened.

The livingroom light flashed on, and she could see the aftermath. Raphael had used the dagger to turn on the switch, and he laid half-alive against the wall. He didn't have the gun.

"I couldn't lose you, too..." Red cried, rattling the weapon in his hands and stuttering, "Are... you o-okay?"

Emyrs was on the verge of losing her composure in front of the child. She choked out an affirmation and crawled to the distraught red haired boy. On her knees, she brushed the bangs out of his swollen eyes and gently removed the gun. She tried several times to form a sentence, tears swimming in her eyes. Instead, she pulled him into her arms and sobbed quietly into his sweaty neck.

"Hey, uh..." something garbled from the wall's direction. Emyrs wiped her cheeks, noticed the tepid blood but dismissed it, and scooted next to a pulverized Raphael. "I don't feel so good."

She studied over his wounds and realized his coat and shirt were soaked with fresh blood. He had been slashed between his stomach plates.

"Oh, take advantage of me while I'm down." His attempt at humor was masked by a gurgle of pain. "It's not that bad. I've had worse."

Red hot-footed out the door and disappeared around the side. Emyrs sighed, "We have to get you to the hospital-"

"Don't..." he coughed, a bit of his spit landing on her cheek. "Ain't going."

"We got a two out of three in this fight so far. The third one won't die on us." She turned, leaned over, intending to tote him. "Hop on."

He swatted and tapped the back of her head."You can't carry me!"

"Hop on!" The harshness of her voice scared even her. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Go for yourself and the kid. I'm...," he groaned while shuffling into a new position, "...I've been through this many times. I... I'll..."

She refused to move, and he erupted into coughing fits. "Kuma will have my head for abandoning you. Would you leave me if I told you to?"

Raph wheezed and slumped against her shoulder. "If you really didn't wanna go..." She jerked her shoulder slightly to his remark, and he blurted, his mouth half open, "No, I fucking wouldn't. Happy?"

Red barreled through the door, out of breath, eyes wide with adventure, "I found a wheelbarrow out back, 'myrs. Big Dawg, remember you used it to dump the plumber down the street and carry the groceries in it?"

Emyrs braced herself for the impact, and with the Hamato man's full weight on her back, combined with the sore muscles and head, it was a painful course to her knees. She almost dropped him several times, wobbling out the door, and he half-mumbled, half-fussed at her not to drop him. She didn't pay attention to him and latched on the rail for support. The tiny porch had a few patches of ice on it, and that just made the terrible situation more fun.

"Red, tuck it near the bottom steps," her breath staggered along with her legs and arms, quickly turning to jello.

"I could go for a nice beer. Stop by the bar on the way," Raph talked into her shoulder, slobbering everywhere, "I got enough for all of us."

She grunted, easing down the frigid steps: the same ones they had sat on just twelve hours earlier, "And where do we leave Red? We have a kid now." She managed a grin under the stress. "What a great honeymoon."

"I want a refund," dissatisfaction grumbled deep from his throat. Unfortunately, she used some of the rail to holster his body, and the structure protested madly. "My butt's cold."

"Red, steady his upper body. I'll turn and then on my count, one, two," she steadied her footing and leaned into the rusty wheelbarrow on the last step. "Three!" Raphael barely knew he had been dumped into a wheelbarrow or that Emyrs landed on top of him and Red almost lost control of the wheel.

A few moments later, the pink-cheeked turtle secured the transportation, and softly looked at Red. "I don't think we'll be returning here. Grab your coat and essentials, what you can carry and stick in here with Raphael. I know it's sudden and this is all happening too fast for any of us to think about, but you must hurry." His intense emerald eyes bore deep into hers as she finished, "Then I need you to guard our injured friend while I grab my things, okay?"

He quickly nodded, red strands bouncing, and headed into the house. She could see him stopping momentarily and staring at the dead man. The dead man his little hands killed. She shuddered from the cold, and the prickling revelation, and waited for Red's return.

Dull noises floated around Raphael, and he was pissed at not being able to completely open his eyes and stay awake. When his eyes did break apart, he saw the street lights and the night sky. Where were they taking him again? The Bank Breaker? Shit! If he had the energy, he would jump out of whatever he was in and go find the nearest pharmacy. Although the stab wounds did burn a bit and his face felt swollen. He might have even swallowed a tooth or two in the brawl. Who the hell was that guy? He was doped up on drugs, that's for sure; Raph knew those dilated eyes from anywhere. He didn't know what happened or how Emyrs and Red escaped from such a mad man, but he was thankful to see them alive. He was grateful to see himself come out relatively unscathed.

He deserved a night of beers and babes for that one.

"'myrs, are you okay?" Southern accent. Definitely Red. "You took a while in there."

Footsteps slipping on the steps. Emyrs. "I'm good, little man. Let's get this guy to the hospital."

"Mmmno!" It was all he could muster through the haze. He clawed at the air, but he might as well have had boulders attached to his arms. "No..."

Something heavy flapped over his body, sheltering him from the cold immediately. He couldn't decipher what Emyrs said next but pretended he knew anyways, "My bros.. home..".

"I'll call them as soon as I can," her voice only an inch from his ear now, "Trust me. You have to trust me. I can't let you die."

The last of his strength took its long awaited leave, and he dropped into slumber.

The wheelbarrow's squeaky traction blended with the frosty night's urban fare. Emyrs and Red latched on each arm, pushing as quickly, as safely as their aching legs could mush. The city folk turned the other cheek, with only a couple asking what they were selling, not realizing a warm body was snuggled in it. The Non hospital seemed many miles away, and usually one could pass the time with thoughts of the day but nobody wanted to think of the travesty or stopped to even breathe. Both felt like snow dogs on a mission to get where they going, and fast.

Two hospital workers, a Bear and a Cheetah, on a smoke break curiously stepped off the pavement and watched two people pushing something over the frozen parking lot. The cheetah Non, a fresh grunt on the floor, nearly choked on his smoke and buzzed behind his more dispassionate coworker as the spectacle approached.

"He's been in a terrible fight and stabbed, possibly several times," Emyrs' breath cut into the air and removed her coat off Raphael. "Don't look at him like he's dead! He's not! Get him inside!"

Red grabbed all of the extra things out of the wheelbarrow as a gurney rocketed out of the sliding doors. In a strategic flash, three other personnel helped the first two lift Raphael out of the rustbucket and onto the stretcher.

Breaking the ice, Emyrs coughed, "I'm very sorry for bringing the poor man in this thing, but.."

The Bear Non chuckled dryly, trailing behind the rocket gurney into the building, "That's pretty original but definitely not the weirdest we've seen, miss. We'll take care of him!" And they all disappeared around the corner. She and Red slowly followed, like smoke hanging in the air after a fire. Something about Raphael not being in their care now scared the daylights out of her. And she didn't even say goodbye, really.

Behind the admissions desk, a kind-eyed, plump Raccoon Non greeted the two; however, her genuine smile dissolved as their dirty and exhausted faces approached the desk. The small tension dissipated once Emyrs pulled a tight smile through the haze.

"Good evening. Do you need help filling out the paperwork?" the clerk asked, shuffling papers under her hand like a magic trick. Emyrs stared at the papers for a moment but returned promptly.

"No, I can fill it out, but I'm afraid I have limited information on the patient they just wheeled in."

The Raccoon Non chuckled and passed the clipboard to Emyrs. "Do the best you can, and we'll worry about it later. The triage nurse will be with you shortly. Take a seat."

Strangely, the waiting room was sparsely filled, and they found two seats outside the lobby, bee-lining to them. She tucked her coat around Red and read over the paperwork. Name? Raphael Hamato. Address? Uh.. unknown. Date of birth? May 1987, she had that at least. She didn't know of any illnesses or medications. It was definitely a better idea for his brothers to get there and finish the rest. Emyrs signed off and started on Red's sheet.

"I can do mine, 'myrs," his voice was so small and weak as he took the clipboard away from her, "get yours done."

"I'm fine, besides a headache and some sore muscles." She didn't look at him.

They said nothing more to each other, but she slithered her arm around his bony shoulders and crossed her legs. The kid completed his paperwork within minutes, left a blank sheet behind for her, and scuffled back to the desk. It was useless to fight with him, and it was the last thing they needed so she scribbled her information on the lines instead.

A loud thud came from the restroom area, near the vending machines behind her. She peeked around the corner and saw a slender, red-haired woman in a blue suit pounding on the snack machine. "Give me my chips, I'm starving!" she shrilled, eventually kicking at it and bobbing the ponytail on her head. The snack must have dropped, given a small thud, and the lady in blue's happy sigh. "You're so temperamental on late nights. I may need to schedule a session with you!"

As she whirled around and headed towards the waiting room, Emyrs shot back to her paper and pretended to be interested in it. Her high heels clanking loudly, the lady paused at the admissions desk, chewing on a candy bar and pointed at Red, "TJ Holmes, right? Why are you here, sweetie?"

Red looked like he had been caught stealing, blinking several times and then fumbled with his tattered shirt. "My friend was hurt, and some bad guy broke into our house. And my name's Red now."

Emyrs couldn't see her face. The lady stuffed the remainder of the candy bar into her mouth and signaled at the clerk for the child's paperwork. She gave it a quick look over and then walked passed Red. "Follow me."

Little green eyes looked longingly at Emyrs, but she nodded, giving him permission to go without her, and she lost her thoughts somewhere between her birth city and any known allergies.

* * *

_My apologies. I had this chapter ready on Saturday but I couldn't upload it to FF until today. - M_


	50. Chapter 46 :: Silver Minute Hand

_Synopsis: The safe house didn't own up to its name. Martin Chaplin, a hitman, unleashed hell upon Raphael and his unsuspecting friends. Red, a shy kid with a strong heart, ended the evil man's life. Emyrs and Red rushed Raphael to the hospital and encountered a quirky therapist on a late night shift._

* * *

The blonde lady in blue closed her office door and promptly offered Red greasy chips. "Mmf?" she licked her fingers and her quarter-sized blue eyes bore into his dirty head. He politely declined.

"TJ- uh, Red, are you okay? You look terrified and sad. Sad children make me sad, and then I write in my diary about how sad I am. Have you done that, Red?" She hunkered in her squeaky chair and plucked off her black high heel, scratching several toes. "Diaries are cool. I have thirty."

"Miss Winston, my stomach hurts and I don't want to be away from Emyrs."

She stopped mid-scratch. "It's Dr. Renet, remember? And who?"

"Em-riss." He gestured a big letter 'E' from his seat next to her glittery desk full of unicorns, silver and gold watches, and frosty hourglasses. "I like her, Dr. Renet. She's funny and kind."

"Do you want her to join us? Would that make you happy?"

He nodded and wiggled in his seat. Renet smiled and tucked her chips behind a computer monitor, "And we'll get you something for that tummy, too. What's her name again?"

"Em-riss, the turtle lady sitting out there."

The high heel proved difficult to snap back on her aching feet, but Renet acted like she planned the fiasco and left the office, almost snapping her ankle in half. Even as tired and concerned as he was, Red snickered under his breath at the funny therapist. She had always been funny.

Dr. Renet's clumsy footsteps alerted the admissions' clerk's furry ears, and she smiled at the approaching doctor, "I warned you that those shoes were no good." She tapped her pen against the counter.

"A turtle. Interesting," Renet mumbled and leaned over the clerk's keyboard, clamoring for the pile of forms next to it.

"You could just ask for it," the clerk grinned, returning back to her monitor.

Renet peered over the form, looked in the lobby, and back to the form. "Emory Bucket?" she called, glancing back up momentarily. "Or is it EmRice Beckner? I can't read this, sorry!"

Desperately maintaining her professionalism, the clerk half-coughed, "I believe it's Em-riss, and Becker is the last name."

"You have good eyes, Belinda."

She tapped her mouse with a solid grin. "Someone's gotta bring up the rear around this place."

The therapist studied the form one last time, and when she glanced up, a pair of swollen hazel eyes gazed into hers. "Em-RISS? Right? I hate butchering people's names."

Emyrs nodded curtly and whispered, "It's okay."

Renet scratched her cheek and nodded in her office's direction. "Follow me. TJ - uh, Red is back here." When they reached her office, Renet closed the door and patted Red on the head. "Emyrs, it's nice to meet you. I'm Renet Winston, and Red and I have known each other for sometime now. Aaaaand..." she scrolled down the form, popping a peppermint in her mouth, "...you're from Germany? Are you here on vacation? Relatives? A lover? The food?"

Emyrs snuggled beside Red and cleared her firey, raw throat, "Visiting a friend and vacation. The food is a, uh... good reason to come, I suppose."

The peppermint bulged under her right cheek. "You met Red through a friend?"

"Yes. Red is my little hero."

Renet's lips pulled tightly as she smiled with candy in her mouth at a blushing Red. The room emitted silence after a few moments, with only the persistent clock ticks from Renet's cluttered desk, and it was apparent to the therapist that her two patients were as wound-up as her clocks, judging from their slight twitches, fidgeting, and limited eye contact, and mostly deriving from Emyrs.

Red jumped as Renet's hand excitedly tapped his knee, "I have cake! Chocolate cake! It's in the employee break room-"

"But, Dr. Winston, my tummy-"

She winked, chomping on her mint, "It'll give us time to get to know each other. I'll take good care of your new friend. You said you trusted me last time. Do you?"

An uneasy glance in Emyrs' direction, eventually Red swallowed his protests. "Yes'm. I do."

"I'll see you in a little bit, Red," Renet calmly said, the door squeaking as she opened it. "Ask Belinda at the front desk, the sweet yet temperamental raccoon lady, and that I need my perfume back. She'll argue that she didn't borrow it but she did. I smelled it on her the other day and she didn't buy her own because it's only available in Argentina through mail order." Red was outside the office, looking confused but continued towards the lobby. "Thanks, mate!"

She pushed the door until it clicked and lightly joked, "His tummy isn't really hurting, and he loves chocolate. He'll eat it up."

Emyrs didn't have time to soak in anything before a mint was shoved into her beak. "No, thanks."

The doctor leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, and finally showing professionalism, except for cramming a second mint in her mouth. "What happened tonight, Frau Becker? I lost track of Red for a while, and thought he was out of danger."

Her mouth might as well have been full of mud. "He was out of danger. Raphael wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"Raphael?" Renet's interest piqued. "This is the friend you were visiting?"

"The son of my friend. I'm sorry I can't divulge any more than that..."

"And where is Raphael right now?"

"Here."

She swallowed her mints."What happened to all of you?"

The atmosphere turned static, and Emyrs heard the sound of her own breathing. Beginning the story felt like bursting through a wall, and by the time she reached the part with the intruder, fatigue weighed on her shoulders. She clamped tightly on her hands and sputtered through the rest of the timeline, wrapping back to the two of them sitting in the office. When the tidal wave passed, she realized just how close she came to...

Emyrs didn't realize Renet had a warm hand on her arm and staring into her face. "Red _is_ our little hero, isn't he?"

"Yes, both of them were," she squeaked, feeling on the edge of tears, "and I can't abandon either one of them, like I did my daughter. I don't know what or who I'm proving my worth to... Just..."

Renet grabbed tissues and dotted the turtle's flushed cheeks.

"Tears are useless." Feeling lightheaded, Emyrs leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, and practiced silence. She didn't feel safe, even at the hospital, in the tiny room, and facing the door and with guards at the front entrance. Thinking of the guards triggered a quick realization as she tucked her elbow against her waist: she walked through the hospital doors with a gun on her hip. She needed the gun now; it could even be infused into her arm and she wouldn't care. A gun in one arm and a machete in another, or any kind of destructive weapon, so long as she could defend herself and her friends.

"Would you like some cake?"

It took a few moments for Emyrs to open her eyes and give the therapist a disapproving look. Hunger was the last thing on her mind, and Renet's peppy attitude was frankly getting on her nerves now. Renet wasn't catching the hint, or didn't care anyhow. "If you change your mind, I'm just down the hall. Would you mind holding on to my cube? I get nervous when it's alone."

Before Emyrs' cloudy brain could catch up, Renet dumped a multi-colored cube in her trembling hands. She studied it as Renet's high heels tapped out of the office. Was it a Rubik's cube? No. It looked odd with its dull shades of gray, red, white, and blue. Little white window markings seemed taped in various spots but rubbing at them did nothing. The cube had seen many miles and hands, evident of its dents, scratches, and dirt. It wasn't nearly as shiny as the ceramic unicorns and clocks on Renet's desk. Aside from a few certificates and diplomas, the wall was completely bare.

Emyrs rattled the cube and even leaned down to hear anything while rattling it. Zilch. She twirled it in her palms and mumbled, "I think she needs a therapist herself." The cube made a loud clink as it landed on the desk. "This is the last place I want to be."

"Where would you like to go then?"

It... sounded like Renet! But she wasn't anywhere in the room. Emyrs pushed the office door open slightly and didn't see a soul. Where was that loopy therapist?

"And I do have a therapist, thank you. That was, like, rude!"

Finally, the bulb switched in Emyrs' head. Of course! Her mother derived from many generations of sorcerers, witches, various magicians, and... time travelers. The cube was familiar to her, but she only saw it once, briefly, at a young age. Magic was never her thing, and her mother all but abandoned it for a quiet life by the time Emyrs reached puberty, which was late.

She leaned on the desk with her elbow, poking the cube. "What are you doing using magic here? Don't you know that's illegal, Miss Winston?"

"Who's going to believe the patients that I see and talk to?" followed by a really stupid giggle and snort. What adults snort like that?

"I should be insulted, but I don't care right now. Stop wasting my time with toys and let me go see-"

A serious tone flowed out of the cube, "I want to help you. Really. Can I show you something?"

"No!" Emyrs glared in the other direction.

"Just a little?"

"Nein!"

"You don't sound German. You don't act German."

She rolled her eyes and spat in syllables, "Perhaps I lived with a relative who lived in another country for a long time and I -"

"That's BECAUSE-" Renet almost blasted out of the cube, "- you are NOT from Germany. Are all Turtle Nons this stubborn? I had this one a few months ago who didn't want to admit he was—"

"I've lived in Germany all my life," Emyrs' cocky grin glowed, "so you're already starting on the wrong foot. Try again."

She swore the cube bounced angrily as Renet blabbered, "Ok! I broke some laws to peek into your past because you had the symptoms, and I'm one hundred percent right, lady! I'll risk it just to show you you're wrong!"

"What kind of therapist are you?" Emyrs moved into the next chair. "I've already committed enough illegal acts in the last three months-"

"So what's one more then?"

"You're despicable!"

"I'm trying to help! Pick me up!"

Emyrs shook her head vigorously.

"Don't shake your head at me! Pick me UP!"

"I'm going to see Raphael," she mumbled and hastily grabbed hers and Red's belongings. "Thank you for helping Red, but I don't need your help and I don't WANT it." She bolted for the door.

"...pretty please?" the cube squeaked. Emyrs' gun slid further down her pants, and she scrambled not to drop anything outside the office.

"I bet you'll miss that gun, won't you?"

Kneeling on the floor while holding Red's schoolbag, Emyrs blinked and squeezed the bag in frustration.

"You won't make it out the front entrance, or even up the elevator. You're giving me no choice, Emyrs Buckner."

She sighed, emitting a little growl, and stomped back to the office. "If this is SO important to you, then go ahead with your sparkle show. Just know that you're keeping me from seeing my debilitated friend." She slammed everything against a chair, scattering a few items on the floor. "I don't like it when people play games with me!" German language spilled out of her mouth like tattered silk, poetic but angry. "Is that German enough for you?"

The cube hesitated momentarily, then slowly admitted, "Did you just say you would open up my head and stir the shit inside?"

"You don't have much to stir," she huffed, leaning on the desk. "You're an airhead."

"I love Germans!" Another snort. "But you still don't sound native."

"What pretty things on your desk..." She picked up an octopus-like, silver cross-eyed hourglass creature and peered at it intensely, "... I'm sure you won't miss two or three. Especially a god awful one like this. What's it supposed to be?"

"A cat! Don't do that! You're mean! Mean British lady!"

"A cat that looks like an octopus?" Emyrs tapped the cube with the hourglass. "My mother lived in England for a long time. Nice try."

"If you take anything, take this cube. I'll loan it to you. It WILL come in handy."

Emyrs replaced the tacky treasure back on the desk and stole mint out of a blue bowl. She flung the candy in her mouth and studied the rest of the small gray and brown office. Nothing in the space stood out except the little glow from Renet's desk in the corner, and out of all the twinkling clocks and accessories, the cube pointed at her. Curiosity never tickled any of her inner felines, and when it did, it always got her in trouble, especially during this trip. What good was there in knowing the past or the future? But the loon in the blue suit wasn't going to shut up so Emyrs really didn't have a choice, and she begrudgingly dumped the cube in her bag. Through her frustration, she chomped the mint in half and swallowed it.

Someone's lips smacked behind her. Renet stood at the doorway, licking her chocolate-y fingers. "Good choice."

* * *

The darkness wasn't so overwhelming anymore, and through thin film, he could see the outlines and shapes of the hospital room, aka the Bank Breaker. Its monogamous walls taunted him, made him feel sicker than he was before he arrived. How did he even get there again?

"Em!" Raphael choked as his head turned to the right, and he saw her eyes first, then the rest of her shape followed. "Yeah, you. How are ya holding up?"

She looked as sad as an abused dog. "I'm breathing. Do you need anything?"

"That's what nurses are for," he groaned and reached one hand to inspect his stomach area: bandages, stitches, and dried blood. Typical. "Sit down and rest. You've been through a lot, woman." She obeyed, and he watched her limp to the chair. "You didn't have a limp before. Go get yourself checked out."

"I did," Emyrs winced, collapsing into the chair. "Worry about yourself."

"Don't get snappy! Come here so I can bop you on the head."

"For bringing you here?" she fired back and rubbed her tense hands. "Your brothers would have done the same thing."

He grunted and cleared his throat while shuffling under the covers, "Nope. They know me too well, but as long as you didn't fill out a form, I'm cool."

A chuckle escaped her lips, realizing that things were going downhill fast. "I didn't know much about you anyways. Just your name and half of your birthday." She expected his full rage inside the small, half-lit room, but he disapprovingly shook his head, all of the wires from his arms moving with him.

"Predictable."

At least he didn't scream and call her names, she sighed and leaned back in the stiff pink chair, angling her body to dull the pain. She knew better than to mull through the wounds and avoid a check-up, but something small in the back of her head said to grin and bear it for now. The pain started as a small cluster and was now steadily growing into a huge network. She just needed somewhere dark and quiet...

"Nurse!" Raphael rapidly pushed the button. "Need fresh water!"

...oh, why did she think sitting with him exercised silence? It was a little humorous, watching a testy, stern Skunk Non nurse jerk open the door and almost sloshed water on him. He wasn't impressed, but neither was the nurse. He was taking a sip when the door slammed and a dribble of water escaped on his polka-dotted light blue gown. It didn't phase him.

"I don't want her back in here so can you hand me my clothes from the drawer? Sorry."

The drawer looked better than the machines hooked up to the boy, Emyrs mused, and handed a plastic bag full of dirty clothes to him. "Do you think they might have some fresh ones for you? I can get them."

"No. I'm about to jet before they can give me a bill. Don't say nothing. I know this ain't the way you do things in Becker Country, but I gotta save my hide."

She watched him pull out his tattered black trousers, inspecting them for whatever. "I avoid the hospital, too."

He flipped off the thin sheets and groaned as he stood on her side of the bed, using the IV machine for stability and dragging the bag of clothes. "You NEED to be in that bed, not me. It's still warm. Get in. Nurse will be happy that a sweet female is there instead of... well, me."

"Sweet?"

He moaned as he closed the door. "Yeah."

She admitted the bed looked inviting, and how a good night's rest tempted her, but she would get rest as soon as she muddled through the sewers and into Abby's arms. Abby hadn't slept with her in three years, and it was a sweet circumstance that Emyrs missed. Back then, it was aggravating, but now she wished for those little feet to kick hers again or little legs to tangle around hers until they were one big silly pretzel.

Emyrs smiled, forgetting the pain for a moment.

And then she felt her arm move slightly, which startled and broke her brittle concentration.

"Just wanted to check your arm." He only ever sounded that soft and concerned one other time, in her recent memory: when April had left the apartment and came back to get clothes. He continued in the same hushed voice, holding her bruised arm in one hand, "Guess I'll diagnose ya myself."

Her teeth wouldn't allow her tongue to break through and explain what was on her mind. It was a case of 'would it matter?' and she was able to walk, talk, and think so it wasn't as bad as Doctor Big Dawg was making it out to be. But, he cared for her well-being and she didn't have the heart to say 'no/forget it/keep your hands to yourself'.

His calloused fingers tap-danced up and over her arms as he pushed her sleeves up and revealed some nasty marks and bruises. They were rather ghastly and very sore. She kept her eyes on his traveling hands and would frequently stare at his stomach wounds.

Raphael talked into their grip together, avoiding eye contact just like her. "What about your stomach and chest?" His touches didn't feel awkward or intrusive but particular, caring, and delicate and not even similar to his death grips on the intruder. She caught him finally making eye contact since she didn't answer him right away, and his face painted with task as he stood between the bathroom and next to her.

He poked her in the ribs, and she winced, more from the surprise at first, but the pain caught up and succeeded. "Figured," Raphael quipped and held the bathroom door open. "Take it off in there. I'll give ya a second."

"Of course it would hurt if you jabbed me!" she snapped and bumbled into the bathroom. His retort was the door shutting behind her, giving her privacy. Did he expect her to take off all of her clothes? Hell no. She hesitated removing her sweater and avoided peering into the mirror. It reminded her too much of a few hours earlier when things were looking up and she had a little light back in her eyes.

Mr. Impatient knocked on the door. "Ready?"

"Mmmmf!" she grumbled, jerking off her sweater and flung it over the toilet. The tip of the right sleeve drooped in the bowl, and Raphael entered in time to find her fishing in the pot, shaking off the water from her clothing.

"Jesus..." he whistled through his nose.

"Maybe that weird therapist can get me another shirt. It's not that bad!" Emyrs smelled of the spot and shrugged her shoulders.

"You're a fucking mess! You don't feel any of those bruises?" His loud voice rattled her brain. She covered her chest area with the dry part of the sweater.

"Yes, some." She didn't have anything to cover from her chest area, but her tummy pudge was a little embarrassing. "Since that baby bit me, I've not felt a lot of pain. I don't know what he did to me."

He gently moved her sweater away and scanned over her wounds. Swirls of red, yellow, blue, and black replaced much of her cream-colored skin. Many times he showed his rage but this one was quiet inside him, and while he felt responsible for her safety, he couldn't fly off the handle and scream at her. Well, he could, and should he admitted, but the look on her face said enough. She felt guilty and had taken her punishment for being irresponsible. He inspected her thin, smaller shell and wanted to chuckle at her for some reason.

"I look better than I feel," she meekly carried on at the white wall while Raphael ran some water in the sink. "Danke."

He dumped the towel on her head. "Wash yourself at least, and go home. I'm leaving in a few minutes, hopefully before that pissy nurse comes back."

"Where are you going?" she muffled through the towel. The warmness offered her a doorway to brief satisfaction and dulled the swarm of mental bees in her head.

He leaned on the sink and gripped his stomach area slowly. A couple of exhales later, the early hours prominently blazed on his face and added twenty five more years to them. "Cleaning and locking up. Gotta finish what I started," followed by a slight grumble towards the bandages. "Let's see the legs. Won't ask for nothing above the kneecap."

Emyrs balanced herself on the edge of the toilet, pulling up one pants leg with uneven grace. At that point, she felt like an outsider, standing in the corner watching the 'strip' show. She tried hard to smile, even harder to chuckle but they crossed tracks and faded.

The leg wasn't too bad, she surmised, and when he didn't say anything, she moved on to the other leg, the one with the crazy child's bite mark. Now that one was-

"Fucking awful! Didn't you put any medicine on it? Looks like a zombie bite!" he squawked and crossed his arms at her. "Scabby, scaly, bruised looking shit! Don't you know first aid 101!"

She picked at it and promptly dabbed the wet towel over the wound. "It wasn't this bad a few hours ago. Do you think I'll be a zombie soon?"

He pointed a finger at her stomach area. "Well, you've got a GUN at least. How did you get past security?"

Instinctively, she twisted her hip and guarded the gun, slinging the towel halfway around the room. He watched her eyes bury in another direction, and they only moved once his hand lowered back to the counter.

"Nobody's touching it. Nobody," Raphael's voice graveled, his face losing tension, "is gonna take it away. I didn't say nothing." He recalled seeing the same look on other people's faces many times, including his own. You don't mess with someone's weapon. As much as he knew the lady wasn't ticking like she should, he didn't have any authority over a delicate jurisdiction.

On his last thought, she was back in her tacky red sweater and appearing less defensive. He fidgeted with his IV, skipped it, and picked up his clothes. "If it gets worse, you know what to do."

She nodded and walked passed him.

"Hey."

Emyrs looked back with deflated eyes.

"Take this shirt." He whistled it through the air, shooting straight into her chest. She didn't have time to protest before he locked the door. She was too tired to argue anymore and quickly changed out of the sweater. His long-sleeved gray shirt took a dive through hell, but it was comfortable and safe. He emerged moments later, ripping out the IV and bundling in his coat, mumbling nonsense about the hospital.

She stood by the window and watched the snow shower, fighting to keep her eyes open against the silence, and his approach between her and the weather was almost frightening.

Both didn't have anything of value to add to their short time together, for enough had already been said. Something about the half-lit room, the gentle snow outside, and the general atmosphere softened their temperaments instead of being under the harsh hospital light.

He croaked, "Well.." and she peered at him for a moment, not entirely sure she was waiting for anything else to be said.

The cold wind and snow brushed against her face from the open window, and the empty space beside her felt jarring. The sun wasn't far away from ending the old night, and she grabbed a few snores in the chair, enveloped in her new shirt, and feeling the safest she had been in a long time.


	51. Chapter 47 :: Midnight to Morning

_Synopsis: The inquisitive, quirky hospital therapist named Renet Winston was actually a time traveler and willing to help Emyrs in her journey. Leery of Renet's intentions, Emyrs was ready to dismiss it, but Renet threatened to use her staff privileges as blackmail. It was the only way she could get through to the stubborn Turtle._

_Emyrs visited Raphael in his room, and he was ready to bail before they could do anything else to him, namely giving him a bill. He demanded to see her injuries and found out that they're pretty serious, but Emyrs insisted she was fine and that it only looked bad. He took her word for it, left his shirt for her after she dropped hers in the toilet, and disappeared into the night. It seemed like the both of them wanted to say something to the other, but neither one spoke up. _

* * *

Raphael's singing voice fractured into the cold air. Just whatever song struck his tongue and flew into the wind. "_He was just a short, bald man with a sack on his back; tying the last strings of his life by morning..._"

He never pretended to be a good singer; when they were eighteen, Mikey, the original cool Mikey, annoyed the fire out of them over starting a band. "Play the drums and sing back up, Raph!" Mikey's scratchy voice whistled between his ears, drowning the present day snow flakes. "You can carry a tune, dude! I've heard you several times in your room and the shop. Come ooonnn. If you don't like it, you can just quit. No sweat!"

But Raph was the only one who liked it. Leonardo and Donatello were decent bass and keyboard players, or whatever they did he couldn't remember now, but Mikey was serious about everything and became a dictator over practicing and being professional when it came to gigs. They only did three gigs with Don never showing up for the third, and they never really got paid all that much, mostly in booze and free food. That Mikey could write some badass lyrics and the most heartfelt shit one ever heard; it brought manly tears to a few souls in quiet showers.

".._.oh, he's a stubborn fool, a sherlock that doesn't give a damn_.."

The band fell apart on a similar harsh winter day, Raphael remembered somberly, his boots crushing through the thick, white ground. The store's lights gently flickered in the corner of his eye, and he trailed forward with his mental grocery list a firm brand on his mind.

A lot of events Raphael could barely recall, but he remembered seeing Mikey's disappointed face as he thumbed over the guitar that day. "I tried, Bro. Guess it's not meant to be or whatever." He wouldn't look up at Raphael, who was angry and a little hurt by the sudden departure.

"We could be a duo! What's wrong with you? You never gave up this easily!"

A sharp note gashed through Raphael's last word; Mikey still didn't look at his brother, but he was terse. "I'm not feeling it anymore. That's all."

"Just give it another -"

"It's over. Leave it alone, Raph."

Cold; it dropped right to the bottom of his heart. Had that been Mikey's prelude into the splintered frames of what he was now? It was hard to pinpoint a direct cause. Raphael didn't know why he was so obsessed with it.

Only two other customers scampered around the store. They didn't pay attention to Raphael's broken singing. At the register, however, the well-known cashiers raised their eyebrows.

He slammed his purchases on the counter, a wiry grin masking his weathered face. They noticed his bandaged hand, an overall ruined appearance, and stepped back slightly. "Ladies! Good evening!" He pushed his items a little closer to them, noticing their discomfort. "I'm paying cash tonight. Rick doing okay these days? You too, Cris?"

The taller, bleached-blond haired cashier nodded, her nose ring dangling. "Yeah, he hasn't been around much."

Raphael opened a pack of beef jerky and ripped into it with monstrous grace. He didn't realize how hungry he was and talked with his mouth full, "He's never around. Think I've seen him three times in the last two years. How you doing, Megan?" He nodded at the shorter brunette whose doe eyes were about to pop out of her skull. Her reaction was a simple nod as she quickly tapped on the register. He blabbed on, "I know it's been awhile. I got fucked up there a bit." His wounded left hand showcased in the light.

Beef jerky crumbs rained on the counter. Cris snarled at his demeanor and investigated his purchases. "Where you goin'? Road flares, gasoline. You don't ride your bike in the winter. Driving that stone-age van somewhere?"

He smacked his lips and wiped them. "Having a little fun, that's all. Boys like to play hard."

Megan squeaked, "Thirty, fifty-one, please."

"Oh, I need my cigars, too." He stretched his injured hand across the counter, pointing behind them. "My cut only looks bad; I'm cool. Some guy tried to strangle me but I whooped him. He won't be singing and dancing anytime soon!"

Both cashiers awkwardly fumbled into the other, retrieving his pack of cigars, and Megan rubbed her neck subconsciously. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Hamato?"

"Meggy, you ain't gotta be formal. It's just stupid ol' me."

Her small, stiff laugh fueled his wayward intentions, and it was clear that they wanted him gone by the way they stuffed the purchases in plastic bags. Cris' ears were steaming hot. Why he had been gullible enough to believe those girls were ever his acquaintances? Megan's ass was chewed out last time, but he felt like having another go while the two Sisters of Hell were clumped together. Though, he wanted to smash his injured hand into the wall for being so stupid. Instead, he rationally concluded that his social skills were years behind everyone else. Damn! Leo was right about it. Can't he ever be wrong about anything?

He used some critical thinking and curved the situation: a hot headed, pitbull-raging Raphael, everyone was scared to see; what about a level-headed, scornful yet determined Raphael? He liked the idea already!

Raphael tossed the empty jerky bag across the counter, hearing it land right in their garbage can. He turned up his snark-o-meter. "Sleep easy tonight, ladies. Don't worry your pretty little heads off; I won't be coming back. Megan, it's been a pleasure to see you squirm, and Cris, your hair always looks like shit and there's nothing you can do to save it. The both of you ever touch my friends again, you'll be ringing that register up with your teeth. Have a good fucking night."

The storm drowned out their retorts, and he was proud of walking away from a pointless argument. Let them call the police or their goons; his evening was just getting started.

* * *

A thin burning light flickered in the snowy dark. Inhaling deep, Raphael wondered why anyone would choose cigarettes over the mild, fresh taste of cigars. A hybrid of smoke and breath flogged the still air, slipping him into a trance. He returned to the safe house with his stash and reflected back to the day he and Merrick found it out of a number of other places.

Excitement wobbled through her black, frizzy hair and coiled its way to her toes. "That's it! That's it! Waffle, look!"

"I hate that stupid name, Mer."

"Look at this little cute house! It's perfect!" Her arms were little propellers. Raphael squinted through the sunlight and caught a good look at whatever was making Merrick shake in her thrift store leopard boots. What hideous things, he remembered.

He shrugged, pretending to be a little interested. "It'll work."

Even though the sun stung his eyes, he caught her baking stare. She snapped, "We're doing a good thing here: helping others in unfortunate situations and get them on better roads. I already have two lined up. Now, you're still gonna help?" He was amazed that she never took a breath while talking.

"Yeah." The shrugs were natural for him. So was her disciplinary hand thumping across his shoulder. "Yeah! I said yeah, okay? I keep my word, you know that!"

Merrick's sunglasses slid off her head from the crazy momentum. "Let's go inside! Oh, I'm so excited.." Her boots slapped the steps, and she was inside the house before he picked up her glasses.

He missed the sunshine, even when it boiled his eyes, and he missed his friend terribly. He stood at the bottom of those steps, looking at the house through a grated filter of shredded memories under a night so foreign yet oddly familiar. Snuffing the cigar in the snow, his boots followed over her ghostly footsteps as the door broke through the darkness inside, and he cemented for a few moments. The pitiful streetlight splashed over the entrance. Was he expecting the house all tidy like old times and not reeking of blood and violent aftermath?

Merrick liked the carpet. She had squealed and tip toed over it on that first day. "Most of these houses have such ugly carpeting, but THIS is so nice!" She dropped her belongings and plastered her face in the floor, just as he stepped into the house, and he scoffed at the spectacle. Just another Merrick trait. "It smells great! Doesn't it? Smell it!"

"No way. I'll take your word for it."

She stumbled and crushed her flashy Earth-friendly purse on her way back to her feet. Frustration fueled propeller arms that time, and Merrick hissed through thick locks of swinging hair, "I want the best! These people have already seen the dumps and I don't want a tacky color."

He reached out for her hand and grunted, "Grab on. You can't handle those heels."

She popped his hand. "Get bent, Waffle. Do I look like a fragile damsel?"

"A damsel with no taste, at least. This carpet is ass colored."

"What color is that!" Another slap.

"Actually I'll take this color over something like leopard or zebra stripes. Do we have a safe house or a zoo?" He couldn't contain his laughter, especially after her infectious giggling and hair locks hanging over her mouth and eyes. She was a mess! They laughed forever at her antics and liveliness over such a boring house. What made it alive was the cast of characters that shuffled in and out of the place. Most of them didn't make much of an impression, and for a while, Merrick handled it on her own. He was falling hard for her, and not just a teenage crush anymore; it wasn't a good idea to pursue anything with his coworker and best friend. What they had was something more special.

He figured it was the best thing he ever did: walked away from a potential disaster and lose someone very important to him.

Yet, he still lost her. Fucking ironic.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the living room's striking light. Dried blood on the floor, the walls, broken tables, chairs, lopsided curtains, and splintered glass all over Merrick's favorite carpet. His jaw tensed and fists harshly squeezed. Deep breaths later, he regained control and realized what was missing on the floor: the asshole's body. Raphael cursed under his breath and punched a jagged hole in the wall. He stomped through Monica's old room and rambled through the closet. There wasn't time to reminisce over Merrick's old magazines and shoes before they scattered in a wild fury across the room. Dark and un inviting, the long hallway was the next adventure, but a small noise from the bathroom triggered his stern awareness. He waited for more movement but nothing else stirred. When he inspected the bathroom, pill bottles rolled slightly on the floor. He still remained guarded.

The next two bedrooms were in one piece and had empty closets and corners. Last area was the kitchen and pantry closet. On cue, his stomach growled, like it remembered the good meals of the past, but it wasn't Merrick's cooking that came to mind. While she wasn't a terrible cook, quite a few of her meals were bland and over-done. On several occasions, the tenants had blocks of roast beef to gnaw through, but none of them, including Raphael, had the heart to complain at her; they had maggot-free, warm food, and that was good enough. The kitchen held the most conversations and secrets within its stupid, flowery wallpaper. Kids made crafts on the table, some did their homework, Merrick paid her bills, Raphael cursed at the plumbing, and it even had its fair share of harassing ghosts, or magical apparitions, he shrugged.

Light from the bathroom reached the kitchen's entrance: the crappy wall phone off the hook with its intestines on the floor and broken pieces of wood. He flicked on the light and wondered how a place once happy and calm thundered into a frightening abyss? He and the drughead never made it to the kitchen, but just as much happened there as it did in the other rooms. The wood fragments cracked under his weight; each step closer to the pantry heightened his blood. He already knew where he was going to find the treasure.

Stuffed in the pantry closet was the drug head's limp body. Raph kicked at the villain's feet, and when the body didn't flinch, he towered over its upper body and ripped off its mask. Raphael looked into the blank eyes of a young man, fiery red hair glued to his head, and, other than the blood and bruises, relatively fresh-cut. A person you could bump into on the street or meet at Liberty Mart instead of hiding in the darkness waiting to gut you.

"You better be glad the kid had a lucky shot!" Ire ignited from his diaphragm, through every limb, and out his mouth. "Worthless ass, you piece of dog shit!" Boots that formerly had ice on their soles now had flames guiding his feet into every inch of space on the dead body. Every thud the attacks made severed what little patience he had left for the night. In two hours, the sun would crack its little beams through each window, and he needed to be done with the night, with this fraction of his life.

"Goddamn it! Bet you feel all fucking fine killing a defenseless woman, HUH! Why her? Why someone I care about!" Over and over again until his voice ran hoarse.

Raphael stopped his assaults only because of time, nothing more. He charged into the pantry closet, wiggling his way into the farthest corner, and yanked a bottle of cheap whiskey among a stash from a secret compartment. The contents splashed in his haste, and he lurched the bottle behind him, aiming it at the wall, right on that awful ass wallpaper. No, he switched quickly, what about smashing the creep's limp skull and then digging the shards of glass in every orifice on his despicable face?

Something chirped from the wall next to him, lancing through the violent thoughts. The whiskey crawled to tiny waves in the bottle; a simple little melody faded in over his ragged breathing. The longer the tune played, the wider his eyes grew and the faster blood drained from his body.

The wall clock, that broken piece of shit playing some off-key tune that nobody has ever heard. It was another one of her thrift store finds.

"Dawg!" Red's annoying accent blasted in his memory. "The clock's stuck again! I can't reach it!"

Riding on the tail of a frustrating day, Raphael ripped the clock from the wall and slammed it on the kitchen table, sending clock fragments sliding across the floor. That was two days after Merrick's disappearance, and tempers were shorter, especially his. He couldn't leave them, but he wasn't exactly sure who to call for help. Pride was his biggest issue.

Red meekly asked behind Raph, "Did you break it?"

"No.." he grumbled and stared at the clock.

"I like that clock."

"Yeah, I know you do.."

And Raph brought out his inner handyman and did the best he could with it. The tune was worse than before, but Red and Charlotte liked it. They liked it because it reminded them of their sweet caretaker, who played hairdresser with Charlotte and toys with Red. Merrick loved them so much, why would she leave without saying goodbye? He knew something was wrong, but he still wanted to be mad at her for disappearing.

Presently, the garbled tune dulled his mind, and the blood chilled in his chest. Raph lowered the bottle to his side and slumped on top of corpse's upper body, releasing the tension in his shoulders and rubbing his neck.

"No need to waste booze," he declared, threw his head back, and guzzled a third of the bottle in the time it took for the clock to stop chiming. City noises thumped behind the walls and slid further away as more alcohol trickled through his body, reversing the evening in slow motion behind his eyes. When his memories ease back to his foggy stupor after the fight, he remembered hearing Emyrs going into the house and taking a few minutes to return. Red had to call for her several times, and Raphael fought to stay awake while listening to Red.

The bottle almost empty, he felt a hard smirk migrate across his face; the realization gave him the first real chuckle in a while.

He talked down at the corpse, "That woman dragged your ass back here and stuffed you in the closet like she bought you at the fucking store!" He hopped in his seat and licked every last drop of his whiskey. "Maybe she didn't want the social worker and inspectors to come into the house and see your ugly ass right on the spot." Raphael howled with wet laughter and rammed his fist into the corpse's neck, "They would say 'guess we won't let that green fucker be in charge anymore! People wind up dead on his goddamn watch!'" He coughed up a disastrous mix of phlegm and lukewarm whiskey, but he couldn't stop laughing at the situation. Why would anyone leave him in charge of anything? Now he understood another reason why Splinter appointed Leo in the leadership role. As Raph stumbled back into the closet and grabbed another bottle from his stash, he roared into an avalanche of laughter, "I'm better than Leo at one thing: being a total fuck-up! 'Let's count how many bodies Raph piled up today!'"

The clock chimed again, and Raph had laughed for almost five minutes to himself and at the half eaten boxes of cereals and old cans of carrots and peas. He choked down more swallows of the second bottle and shuffled back to the body, pointing down at it in a matter-of-fact way. "Since I'm tired as hell and already made up my mind, you might feel a little warmth around your toes. Nothing to worry about, chump." He set the bottle on the table and receded down the hallway.

Raphael Hamato worked hastily, snatching extra layers of clothes and smothering the place in pungent gasoline. The buzz in his veins abated all emotional attachment to Merrick's dream; it had been her dream, and not his. She was gone; there was no one left to fix the clock, cook dinner, watch television, read magazines, play with the kids, or smell the carpet.

He retrieved the rest of his liquor stash, puckered up his cheeks with bitter alcohol, and unleashed it in a vicious spray on the corpse until nothing more drained from his lips. The last of the gasoline cascaded over the cold body, and while it soaked in the liquid, the gas can bounced off the wall and crashed on the floor.

From here, there was no return. He was used to this kind of heartless escape, but it stung a little under the buzz; perhaps, because he fooled himself to think that another group of people could trust and care for him. He broke away from his first family; it felt natural and a long time coming, and he had the best intentions. Life marked upon him the seal of a protector, a watcher for the vulnerable and destitute. Very few could walk down that path with him, and those former occupants of Merrick Cruz's haven were not his traveling companions, not even Merrick, who had been there through some very dark times.

What mattered now were the people still alive, still needing his help.

Raphael walked down the front steps for the last time. The road flare ignited in his hands before he could blink; he roasted another cigar with the flare and tossed the beam into the house, on shriveled feathers that stretched through the interior and, passionately, ended the frenzied chapter right on the heels of dawn.

* * *

That stupid song wouldn't go away, even after he drunkenly sang it for thirty minutes straight and finished his third bottle. Early morning in Manhattan stunk just as bad as midday and evening. Raphael remembered enjoying those pre-dawn runs and exercises but hated the smell for some bizarre reason; in fact, very bizarre giving that he lived in the sewers. He liked having colds because his nostrils didn't burn from the stench and his clogged ears couldn't listen to his brothers arguing and nagging.

Aw, fuck... there was the song again! In retaliation, he rammed his boot into a rogue blue trash can, watching it bounce off a fire hydrant and land on its top near a fence. He laughed obnoxiously at the spectacle; his eyes followed along the little white picket fence guarding the dirty brick buildings with their multi-colored awnings and dainty bushes glazed in snow.

"You're fucking boring!" he screamed at them and finished the tirade with a glorious middle finger salute. The old song blasted in his head, so Raphael echoed it loudly through a stuttering web, "He lost his ol' stupid mind; didn't find it in time. They found his body.."

"Hey, loser!" an angry voice bellowed from one of the windows, "take it somewhere else!"

Raphael sang louder, "... covered with warm gold in a ditch; a LOSER in a gray fairytale!"

"Choke on it, jackass!" The slamming window loosened some snow, dumping it on the ground.

He stumbled through the rest of the lyrics, half recalling them and eventually creating his own. Behind him in the distance, the dark cloud of smoke and ash narrowed in its wake and the flooding sirens thinned. By the time he dipped into a grimy alleyway, his emotions over the scorched house faded, as well as the song lyrics. Finally!

His bladder was ready to explode, and his organs squirmed inside, desperate for food. Only one of those requests he could fulfill at the moment, and it wouldn't be the first time he did it in the alley. Sweet relief fell over him as he unloaded into a tight corner between a crooked dumpster and a small pile of housecleaning items. The alley smelled like piss anyways and all kinds of inhuman odors, he grumbled behind his teeth. People used it as their own personal landfill and didn't care who or what crawled through it. He was safe, although it didn't matter because he would make it safe for himself, regardless.

Something tapped against his shoulder, and he slowly faced his opponent: a beaten old mop, and it wasn't backing down either. He idly shoved his shoulder away and let the mop hit the ground. Scattered noises occurred a few feet from him. His meandering woke up other alleyway hobos, a mix of humans and Nons, but they dismissed one of their own taking a leak in the corner and drifted back to sleep. Nothing exciting.

A light morning snow floated in front of his eyes, but he paid more attention to the brick wall and the persistent ringing in his skull. Even as he finished his business, the noise got louder, sharper, and it drove him into a distracted frenzy. He head-butted the wall, pressing fresh cuts and bruises on his forehead that he couldn't feel until the blood rinsed his eyes. Thrashing his shell into the wall, he leaned against the dumpster for unstable support, but he slipped under a patch of ice and crashed into his cold plot of waste. He was exhausted, devastated, and lonely under the heavy cape of a broken man. He just needed to grab a few z's and then fix whatever was fucked up later. He dragged the extra coats out of his bag and threw them over his head.

He deserved to sleep out in the cold, like the rest of them.

A prickly, snide voice pulled Raphael out of his calm slumber. He ignored it, but the noise repeated and grew irritable by the moment. Who the fuck was hassling him now?

"Look how far our great leader has fallen!" Cackles, lots of them. It meant there was more than one jackass, too.

"I can't believe he didn't take care of the problem!"

"Yo, Big Dawg!" God, that voice grated his skull. Then, something jolted at his feet. Guess he needed to wake up now. "What the hell ya doin' down there? You look like a street maggot! I thought you had a home? You got kicked out 'cuz you didn't pay your rent? Sounds just like you!"

The stupid snickers and cackles pushed his eyes open, and they stung like wildfire. Little balls of light made him blink consistently until his hand blocked them. As Raphael turned his neck, the aches and pains crawled through him, which darkened his grumpy attitude. He noticed the snow wasn't falling anymore and a small amount of natural light splashed on the wall. Daylight.

"What a loser," someone mumbled and the rest solidly agreed.

The stomach pains were excruciating, and a staggering Raphael eventually rose to his feet, a little lopsided and wobbly, but he was on two and looking dead at his perpetrators.

"Oh my fucking... sh-," he laughed tiredly and stumbled back slightly. "I thought it was somebody important! I'm going back to sleep."

In colorful waves of mismatched winter clothing, four Frog-Nons peered at the lone turtle with wide, cautious eyes. One from the group bravely stepped forward and hissed, "You going soft now? Should we start calling you Little Puppy instead of Big Dawg?"

"Should you start talking like you got some sense with your New Joi-see talk?" Raphael leaned on the dumpster casually and felt more awake.

"I'm from the Bronx! Don't call me -"

"Bullshit!" Raphael roared, dismissing with a sloppy wave, "What do you and your boys want, Attila? Ain't got no money, no dignity, no life. My sexual fantasies are all I got left; I might fight for that depending on which ones you take. Just got done with one about girls licking my butt. Damn good stuff."

He scanned over the four little street children, or that he knew as children; they were teenagers now, but he helped trained and mentor them when he worked at the burger joint and they were always hanging around there. That was a phase of his life where it might have been possible to walk down a more positive path and enlighten others. Like everything else, it faded to black.

He coughed up some phlegm and ground his teeth against the hunger. Maybe April would have some eggs and bacon cooked in a little while. What day was it again?

"You shoulda taken care of Thumbtack!" another frog, nestled behind the others, shrilled and jabbed a finger between two of his brothers. "I thought we all had each other's backs, especially you!" That was probably Ganghis, professional worrywart; Raph had more fun looking at the ground and picking out who was who just from their stupid voices.

And a third one chimed in, "We didn't believe the rumors so we came lookin' for you. Man, what happened? You used to have it half-together. Your family must be proud." They sneered. Again.

"Well, Razzy," Raph grunted but coughed before the last Frog, Napoleon, interrupted him.

"Don't call you call him that!"

"The name's Rasputin, maggot; we ain't ten no more!"

Raph wiped his chin and gained his composure again, "Like I said, Razzy," his eyes growing chillier than their surroundings, "I'm not sixteen anymore and give two shits about you either. I took care of Thumbtack how I saw fit, and I had more important things to do. Mind your own damn business."

Attila wasn't backing down. "Even though you flipped burgers and people called you names, we looked up to you. We took up for you, got into some brawls, knocked some teeth out. All for you and this is how you repay people!"

He didn't have energy to care anymore; the frog's revelation made his pains worse, and he wanted everyone and everything to go away. The sunlight burned into his retinas and he placed his head against the dumpster.

Napoleon turned to leave, glaring into the street. "Leave him to rot. He doesn't care anymore."

"No!" Attila's cheeks radiated, "Fuck him and fuck this city!"

Raphael heard the swift movement of boots against snow, and he was willing to let the kids take their frustration on him. More than likely, he deserved it. His mind and body were spent, and all he wanted was a plate of food and a warm bed. A fight would give him enough energy to waddle home and crash.

But the first punch never came. What he thought was the sound of the frogs getting ready to attack was actually an intervention. Yelps and gargles echoed in the alley, and silence dropped. When he raised his head and shielded his eyes from the sun, there were bodies on the ground. Colorful little bodies on the ground. Somebody knocked out the little street kids, flat on their asses!

Next, something shoved against him, followed by a tongue's clicking. "You really ARE getting soft, Raph. Letting little kids bully you like that?"

"...Leo?"

His brother's serene face blocked the sun. "How quickly kids forget their manners. Are you okay?"

"I can take care of myself!"

"Suuuure," Donatello said, tapping on Raph's noggin, "Sleeping in your own urine, looking like you got hit by a pack of reindeer, and you smell like liquor. Back to the drawing board."

Half of him was elated to see his family; the other, smaller, half wished they would take a hike, too. He was ashamed of being seen this way but tried playing it off, "I've had a bad night. Needed a drink and a night in the cold. Makes me feel better."

A smooth, familiar voice came behind Leo and Don; Raph had a shaky moment when he heard Mike ask, "What kind of bad night? Wanna talk about it, bro?"


	52. Chapter 48 :: Father

_Synopsis: Angry and depressed over losing a close friend, Raphael stood up to the backstabbing cashiers at the store and destroyed the old safe house by fire. It was the only way for him to move on. An early morning stroll through the snow brought back many sad memories, pushing him faster into a depression. Drunk and exhausted, he collapsed in an alley and was soon ridiculed by four frog-Nons, old friends of his. But out of the morning light came the familiar voices of the Hamato brothers to their sibling's rescue._

* * *

Facing the day with a hangover, Raphael groaned and wobbled to his feet. He felt the burning eyes of his brothers and the sun on a quarter of his swollen face; the other half glued to the brick wall. The brothers mumbled and gave short glances at one another, and Mike asked a weird question. "Do you want to talk about it?" he said.

"Talk about what?" Raphael rubbed both eyes and his face. His hands smelled like piss and alcohol, making his stomach hurl a little. "I'm right as rain. I feel better after a cat nap."

"A cat nap?" a grin crossed Donatello's face, his eyes boring into Raphael's lopsided frame against the building. "You looked cozy in that corner. Even had a mop keeping you company." His demeanor then grew dark. "Hope you feel better enough to clean up both your body AND your act. You're not sixteen with adolescent issues anymore. It's no longer cute."

A grimy ball of phlegm catapulted from Raphael's throat on the ground in front of Donatello's soggy boots. He gagged, "Not like it ever was cute."

Mike brushed past a groaning Donatello and pressed the back of his hand against Raphael's forehead. "It wasn't a good idea to do this, Raph. You're getting-"

"Can I just -" Raphael's knees cracked from better posture, shielded his eyes, and coasted in Leonardo's shadow, "-just eat or something? We can blabber later and I'll spill on all of this-," he gestured towards the bodies of the Frog boys on the ground, "-this shit later."

Leonardo, Mike, and Donatello nodded silently and trailed behind their grumpy sibling, thankful to have found him but very worried about his health and safety. Raphael would never tell them the many ways they had rescued him from a terrible night. Not then at least.

* * *

The last time Casey Jones had seen those vapid hospital walls, his grandmother passed away and his aunt collapsed from grief in the hallway. Not a good day, and he avoided hospitals at all costs since then. Enough bad memories of relatives dying and injured friends to last beyond a lifetime. Even when a urinary tract infection hit him, he sucked in all of the manly power in the universe, howled from his bed, and sent April to get medicine; the pain eventually faded and he read on the internet to avoid cola and tea and drink more cranberry juice. It worked.

If he was ten years younger with no family, he might have been okay with losing a few digits; after all, he had been granted a spare hand and it was enough to beat the daylights out of crooks. Casey sighed and flicked part of the thin, wiry blanket off his chest. He and the green boys had their fair share of batty terrorists over the years, but life made them too soft because the lizard and fox chicks sneaked past them, or he thought the fox was a female. She fought with the right hook of a solid male. Females had a special way of attacking normally, like the way they cooked dinners and drove cars: still feminine but with a cute punch to it. Not that fox lady, he scoffed. She was crazy!

His dry eyes shifted to the tv on the wall, and the same headline news and weather scrolled across the screen as it did for the last two hours, since the morning peeked behind the curtains. A survey of his bandaged left hand prompted a small chuckle from his throat: good thing he was right handed; it might be fun having a frankenstein body part. A battle wound in the line of duty, that's what it could be, he mused with a half-cocked grin at his thick-laced hand. Bruises, cuts, blood, severed limbs, and concussions were all in a day's work.

Admittedly, the vigilante business was getting old and very dangerous for his family. His wounds took longer to heal and his energy wasn't as fiesty and gung-ho although he would never tell it to his buds. Casey enjoyed having a low-key schedule. Older age was catching up to him, but he was okay with it. Really. A beautiful blonde made his life worth living, and never had a lady caught his heart the way she did everyday.

"Dop!" a tiny squeal screeched behind the soft door. April's warm face greeted him first and soon, two chocolate doe eyes belonging to Miss Shadow almost popped out of her head when she saw her daddy. "Dop!" she wiggled her fingers towards him. April couldn't get to the bed fast enough for the baby.

"Hey. Like your new hair," Casey said, locking his eyes on April's crimson, bouncy locks. "It looks fuller, like, uh, better and uh," he winked at her on the last words, "red suits you." She grinned, whispered a thanks, and carefully tucked Shadow next to Casey on the bed. The room was messy, and cleaning it was a healthy distraction while father and daughter played. Shadow's giggles bounced off the walls, and the room felt more colorful to Casey again.

"You're growing everyday, squirt!" He tickled her chubby belly, and she blew bubbles while giggling. "You'll be going to school and learning cool stuff like math, reading, and gym!"

"Dop! Dopppp," she hung on the word and wiggled in place, hoping to free her body and roll on Daddy.

"Where you going?" he teased in a higher pitched voice, "can I go too? Can I?" Casey eased his grip around her, and she broke free, scaling his chest and declaring herself captain of the good ship Daddy, sitting up as straight as her little spine could. It was more like leaning and then colliding with Casey's chin. Father and daughter laughed, and he crawled his fingers up her leg and attacked her sides. Shadow's stubby feet waddled in the air as her stomach tightened and she chortled, making spit bubbles from her mouth and nose.

Upon noticing the spectacle, April whisked from the bathroom and stretched her arms towards the bed. "I don't know if it was the best idea bringing her here. She has a little cold, but she kept asking for you and pointing to that rattle you made for her." She chuckled and bent to pick up Shadow, but the toddler's laughs jumped sharply into whimpers. "Come on, baby girl. You can't sit there." Shadow popped her head against Casey's chin and threw decibels into the room. "Okay, okay!" April's eyes grew wide. She eased Shadow back to her warm spot beside Casey. "You have to stay there if you want to be with Daddy."

"Aw, kiddo," Casey kissed his daughter's blonde head. "It won't be long and you can wrestle with me again. I won't go easy on ya next time!"

Shadow chewed on her finger, sniffling but looking more lively after the tantrum. "Dop, bop."

Weary for early in the day, April drooped in the peach corner chair and idly smiled in Casey's direction. He noticed it immediately, and concern washed over his face. Both adults remained silent on the issue and paid more attention to their babbling daughter.

Casey played along nonchalantly, letting her pick at his bandages. "I got beat up good, but I didn't let them mess with ya. Daddy ain't going out that easy." Shadow grazed her wet fingers on Casey's right hand and continued chatting in baby speak to him. Casey chuckles, "I hear ya! I'm ready for spring too. I just don't like the wasps. Got stung by one while riding my bike long time ago. I can take my fingers getting cut off but no wasp sting!" Shadow grew louder over her daddy's long-winded speech, and he playfully retorted, "Don't scream at me, young lady!" and ambushed her feet.

Regardless of how tired she felt, April enjoyed the family time, right then. She was fatigued from the worrying and fussing over Casey's medical care and insurance and Shadow's doctor appointments and work, and it never ended. Right then was nice; she could breathe and watch the two play and snort on the bed. She looked down at her chipped fingernails she had been gnawing recently. The hair dye was a last minute decision, prompted mostly by Irma, but April liked having red hair and liked feeling pretty, especially during struggling times, physically and mentally.

"Where did you go?" Casey's low, scratchy voice reached her seat. She brushed off a rogue nail chip and crossed her legs. He didn't give her time to answer. "Were we there?"

She grinned, "I didn't go far."

He rubbed Shadow's small head as she leaned against him, sucking on her thumb. "Sorry for the trouble. I, uh," Casey looked down at Shadow's fingers, sliding his over hers, "I don't want us to be, to not be-," he swallowed nervously and glanced at the foot of the bed instead of her, "not together, ya know. I wanna try harder."

Her eyes drifted out the frosted window, her thoughts in slow motion due to fatigue. His mind automatically thought the worst and threw out all kinds of scenarios, and as soon as his mouth opened, she said quietly, "Both of us will try harder."

"Why you? You never-"

"Both of us," she reiterated, a warm glow over her face. She left her seat and joined them on the bed, picking at Shadow's feet.

The door swept open, and an older thin nurse in blue scrubs and a crooked sweet smile greeted them. "Hi, little lady!" she grinned at Shadow, who hid under her dad's arm from the abrupt meeting. "Oh, I'm not here to take you or anything. Your poppa here needs a little happy juice." She fiddled with the wires and pulled a syringe from her pocket.

"Daddy likes his juice," Casey cooed at Shadow and winked at her. "Makes him sleep like you do." He poked her belly, and she twisted into his side with her face in his armpit.

The friendly nurse whispered a goodbye and left the room. Casey's medicine worked quickly, and April watched him dose peacefully. Shadow was surprisingly quiet, and when April checked on her, the toddler was snoozing, too. April scooted her chair next to the bed, hooked her arm around his, and leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the loving moment.

A young Hispanic nurse prepared his breakfast rounds, rattling the cart through the hall and softly tapping on each door. He preferred not to intrude on patients and their families, but he hated it if they missed their meal. The hospital food wasn't four or five star rated, but the hard-working nurse wouldn't let his patients starve, even if they tried.

Room 209-A was usually pretty loud so it piqued the nurse's interest as he knocked on the door. He waited for the rambunctious, "Come in, Horado!" from Mr. Jones, the patient, but nothing happened. Horado brushed passed the door with a big gray plate of food and smiled at the view: all three members of the Jones' family merged together on the bed, quaint and peaceful, like they've been waiting a long time for the reunion.

* * *

_Next chapter: The Hamato brothers discuss uncomfortable matters over breakfast._

_Thanks to EclecticMe, my new beta for this story.  
_


	53. Chapter 49 :: Don't Give Up

_Synopsis: During a visit with Casey in the hospital, he and April reconcile, their daughter gleefully playing beside them. Both of the adults are ready for the long-haul in repairing the damage to their relationship._

_With the Hamato clan back together, their first mission is to grab breakfast and catch up on current events._

* * *

A rogue human bystander jumped from a thundering scream in the street. "Casey! Mother of a fucking- Casey!" The bystander quickly jogged away from the madness. Raphael punched the air wildly and cursed under his tongue. Walking beside him, Donatello winced from his brother's crackling decibels and motioned at him to calm down. Raph coughed from the excitement and continued screaming, "Why didn't you come get me sooner? I'll kill whoever fucked with them!"

Shaking his head, Don hissed, "It's been handled. We're going to see him after breakfast. Now shut it off."

"You shut your damn mouth-"

"Raphael," Leonardo coolly said, he and Michelangelo bringing up the rear and watching a few humans and Nons' odd stares. It was early morning and the pedestrians didn't have their joes yet, given their sleepy, cold faces. There was no easy way to catch Raph up on the current events, and Don blurted it out before Leo moved his own tongue. Mike glanced over his shoulder at his angry brother's gawk, but Leo's demand worked, and Raph fell silent. Mike gathered Raph knew things would explode if he defied Leo's request.

"Yeah, Chief, I hear ya." Uh-oh, Mike groaned. Too late.

Arching his neck, Leo peered from the corner of his eyes at Raph. "I know you're angry, we all are, but we don't need trouble. That's all I was asking you to do."

The brothers crossed an icy street and bee-lined to a homely cafe with a half-lit neon sign. Raph scoffed, turning his head left to right, taking in the traffic, "You guys are predictable. You want me to suffer in pain?"

"What?" Don snapped, curling his upper lip. "I don't recall any of us getting food poisoning from this place."

Mike silently chuckled in his chest and focused on a Rat-Non beggar, its black fur matted with dirt and old food. It napped against the wall between the diner and another building. Mike forlornly moved his eyes away as they approached the door; the image stayed with him.

Raph entered first, swinging the door open, jerking the bell in a sharp, uneven tone. "You don't pay attention to nothing, Donny. Forget it."

"I'm sorry if your intestinal problems isn't a priority of mine," Don glared at him and held the door for the other two. "You'll do what you want so go eat somewhere else. I'm dining here."

Mumbling, Raph plopped in an empty brown booth, squeaking air out of it. He rested his right leg on the whole seat, just before Mike wanted the seat. Mike thought his brother would move it, but Raph threw a toothpick in his mouth and looked in the other direction. Leo slid in Raph's booth, and Mike and Don took the next booth. Mike's hand slipped off the greasy table and he wiped his hand on his coat. Don blew through his nostrils and glared at a lounging Raph. "Are you comfy, sweetheart?"

"Peachy, cupcake."

"Asshole."

"Nag."

"Gentlemen." Leo brought their attention to the approaching human waitress. She showed concern on her pasty face and almost dropped her notepad when she dug it out of her spotted red apron.

"Morning. Drinks?" Her large green eyes dwelled on the book, occasionally looking at her customers. They ordered coffee and kept the conversation short. The waitress noticed Raph's long stare at her, and she walked away briskly.

Leo gently knocked on the table for Raph's attention. "Where have you been and why couldn't I reach you?"

Raph took a moment to answer. "Busy helping people. Phone is out."

"Are they helped now?"

"Yeah." He chomped on the toothpick, sliding from one cheek to the other.

Don piped up. "Did you find Emyrs?"

"Yeah." Raph kept his eyes on the flat-screen tv in the upper corner of the room. The diner could afford a fancy tv but couldn't fix the holes in the seats. Raph almost ripped out some of the material when he moved his leg. "She should be at the apartment now."

Their frizzy black haired, curvy waitress nervously returned with their coffee cups. Raph gave her another long glance, and his brothers gave him one. She cleared her throat and said, "I'll give you another moment for your orders if you like."

"I'm ready," Don interrupted her last word and hastily gave his order. Mike softly instructed his, and Leo passed on food.

"Brandy," Raph flirted and slowly read off her name tag, "Do you have a special today?"

Don rolled his eyes and waited for the train-wreck. Raph never picked up on two things: biology and flirting. None of them really knew how to woo someone because they had been too busy hiding from society. Their social skills were years behind everyone else. Regardless, it didn't stop Raph from trying right then.

Brandy was taken back but recovered, stuttering, "A meal with three eggs, bacon, and toast for five ninety-nine. Free cup of joe and refills."

Raph grinned at her anxiety. "I'll have that. Thanks." He leaned back on the wall and watched her walk away, noticing her fine posterior.

From two booths away, Leo witnessed four men's sharp glares at them and huddling. He slid next to the wall and whispered at Raph, "We might have trouble."

"Yeah, I know," Raph evenly retorted and scooted his boot under the table. "I ain't afraid of them. If I wanna talk, I'll talk."

Don sighed and retrieved parts of a newspaper from another booth. Mike wanted to ease the tension and announced, "So, um," he watched his brothers turn to him, "I've thought about going to school."

Leo and Don's eyes lit with fascination, crowding around Mike and throwing questions at him. "What kind of classes are you taking?" "What's your major?" "What about writing?" Mike enjoyed the attention and playfully waved them off. He answered quietly, "I'm not giving up writing, but I was thinking about nursing. I like helping people and taking care of them." He swallowed, not waiting for their response. "I've thought about it for a long time so my mind's made up."

Leo's eyes sparkled and he patted Mike's shoulder. "And that's that. I'm proud of you and will help you in any way I can." Don smiled and nodded. Relieved, Mike opened several packs of sugar and sprinkled them in his coffee. Everyone went back to their paper and coffee. More customers flooded through the door and gravitated to empty seats, coughing, fussing about the cold weather, and rattling the tables in their wake. Mike sipped his coffee and heard a rough garble from the other booth. The brothers shifted their gaze towards Raph, the owner of what was supposed to be a cough.

"Yeah, uh, I'm thinking about something, too," he began, the pick dropping out of his mouth. He pushed it off his chest and said, "I'll be somebody else's problem in the military."

His family was dumbfounded, more or less, and while they were supportive, they had doubts. Leo spoke first. "You're ready for the commitment, brother? When do you plan to enlist?"

Raph fidgeted with the salt and pepper dispensers. "After the New Year. I don't have a choice."

"Yeah you do!" Don chirped, flapping the paper on the table. "I admire your decision, but it's not the only option."

"It's MY option, Donny," Raph drew his gaze at his brother. "Mine. And I'll do what it takes," jabbing a finger to prove his argument. Nobody responded, only Mike slurped his coffee accidentally, and it rattled Raph's last nerve. "So WonderBoy over here can get excited over bedpans and you're behind him one hundred percent? Forget Raph and his desire to fight for his country?" Raph's cheeks boiled and he almost slammed the table but covered half his face in protest.

Sensing things turning ugly, Leo quietly gave his approval. "That's noble, Raph. We would miss you, and you can't say we wouldn't. We missed you in the last two weeks, and I tried to reach you, and I was tied up and couldn't find you. Can you please spend your remaining time with us?"

Melancholy falling over their faces, Mike and Don were speechless. Brandy the curvy waitress appeared out of thin air and laid the hot plates in front of them. Raph didn't look up, and she set his plate next to him; cautiously she asked, "Would you like anything else?" directly at him. Don stared at her cute, nervous grin in Raph's direction. Oh, no. It worked, he groaned.

Raph had a deer in the headlights look, meeting her glance again. Her bubblegum flavor perfume suffocated him and his fidgeting hand popped his sunny-side up eggs. He heard Mike chuckling and could've killed him. God only knew what the other two brothers were doing. He nearly poured salt in his coffee and dropped his fork. Finally, he just ignored the waitress.

"No, miss, that will be all," Leo smiled and dismissed her. She trotted away with a puppy face and moved to the next booth.

"Lucky woman," Don smirked, dipping into his oatmeal. "Close call hooking up with Raph."

Before Mike bit into his french toast, he turned to his ravenous brother at the next table and declared, "I'll support any decision you make, Raph, because I know it's the right one for you."

Raph stopped inhaling his food for a moment and peered at Mike for a split second and mumbled through yolk and bacon, "Thanks." He looked down and repeated a quiet "Thanks," and went back to his breakfast, feeling better about the days ahead.

Peering over his coffee cup, Leo eased his guard after the table of alarmed patrons resumed their grubs.

* * *

Two meals and desserts later, the Hamatos stepped into the cold air, the cafe's door ringing behind them. Mike looked for the homeless Rat-Non, but a dry patch was the only thing he saw. Tightening his plaid scarf, Mike caught up with his brothers, who were fussing about what to do next.

"I know it was that Hunter Mason who hurt Merrick; she's probably in a garbage bag somewhere!" Raph buried his bare hands deep in their pockets. He stood between Leo and Don as they jogged across the busier street, avoiding the herds of humans and Nons rushed in their mid-morning strolls. His brothers' momentary silence grated Raph's nerves again. "Look, I'm not asking for trouble anymore, okay? I don't go looking for it or make friends with troublemakers. Merrick was a good bud, you know that." They stopped in front of a small music store where foot traffic was lighter. Raph continued, "Let's team up and go face the asshole. Go ninja turtle on his ass like old times."

Behind his brothers and snuggling half of his beak in the scarf, Mike's eyes were saucers, juggling tension in his mind between the old life and the present one. He wasn't sure of what made him more nervous.

Don leaned into the group, sharply whispering, "How do you know it was Mason? Have you been tracking him all this time?"

"I had a run-in. Dammit, I tried facing him, but I-" Raph swallowed, looking at two pedestrians passing close, "-screwed up. I was stupid and should have waited." He fumbled around in his coat before finishing on a hoarse note, "It's killing me not knowing."

Leo watched Raph stare into the distance, studying over his troubled brother and calculating the agony Raph felt. Traffic faded into a dull hum, and empathy ran deep among them. The off-beat, soft moments between the fights and disagreements strengthened the bond. Leo locked away those junctures and revisited them during strenuous times; he would tuck that one with a rare look into Raph's vulnerable side. Raph had one, but it took him longer to show than the other brothers. "Tell us everything, Raph," Leo began, pushing aside any discriminations and standing firm, "and don't hold back."

Everything unfolded in slow motion. Raph's high-powered tales of the safe house and the convention intrigued and shocked his family. It gave them another glimpse into Raph's person, his need to defend and protect without end; however, details of the arson nearly sent them screaming for the hills. Mike stepped away from Don, who was a pot ready to explode. "That kind of stunt can land you in prison now, genius! Holy mother of fuuu-"

"I don't regret it," Raph's temper and eyes held even in the circle. "Nobody will miss that lowlife."

"And poor Emyrs and the kid," Mike muffled through a thin fold in the scarf. "Wrong place at the wrong time. We should check on them."

"I will, I will," said Raph, nodding and looking at the ground for a moment. "I know they're in good hands. Better than mine."

"Regardless, you have to hide now, Raphael." Leo motioned for the brothers to start moving again. "We stay together. We have to. Does anyone disagree?" Don, Mike, and Raph followed his crunchy footsteps and more or less agreed in nods and neutral grunts. "Good. Stay close and sharp then."

They didn't know where Leo was taking them, but it involved a long, cold walk and a random bus trip. Humans constantly stare, even the other Non-humans get a good look at them. Underneath their thick skins and they would probably never admit to it, thee Hamatos secretly wished they never came to live on the surface. Everything made them uneasy. Each brother daydreamed out the window, his thought his own. Mike and Don sat together, Leo and Raph behind them, each in his own seat, true to their personalities. Leo paid the most attention around the bus while the others sat idly.

Since Leo was the only one who knew where they were headed, the bus trip took forever. They finally saw the icy Hudson River and the snowy banks. Leo signaled to get off the bus, and the trek continued into the Wherever. They silently passed through more traffic and hopped on a bikeway heading north.

Mike buried himself under the nest of clothes and thought of hot chocolate and cuddling with Rosie, wherever she was now. He missed his cat and hoped after everything died down, he could find her. She loved hot chocolate, too, and he poured some into her bowl infrequently. Silly cat.

Don was still cooking under his skin over Raph's dramatic show of stupidity. If Raph was in front of him, a hole would be where his shell was from Don's threatening glare. Why couldn't Raph grow up? Sure, save the disabled and the kiddies, but don't torch a house with a body in it. That kind of shit was old hat. Raph didn't know how serious he really made things. Fuming, Don picked up his step behind Leo and thought of a computer programming glitch at home that was bugging him. Much better.

A broken record, Raph's mind flew through the previous two days' events and wouldn't stop replaying. He omitted a couple of things he told his brothers, like being hauled in a wheelbarrow and the bathroom time with Em. He couldn't stop seeing her sad face in his eyes. She seemed younger and not the tough old broad holding a gun and a gleam in her eye anymore. He messed up with her in more ways than one and hoped she could forgive his incompetence. Don was still pissed at him for sure, judging by his boots crunching in the snow. It wouldn't be the last time.

Leo's gut instincts never failed him, and the one guiding him to the outskirts of the city to strengthen family ties, he was especially taking heed. It felt right and was certainly needed, given the situation. He would never give up on his family no matter how bad they screwed up.

* * *

_Preview from Chapter 50:_

_Leo began softly, "Mei, could we ask-"_

_She pointed to his left pocket, never looking down at it. "You brought something important and you will need for our union today. Please show us."_

_His brothers grouped in, Leo touched the insides of the pockets and cushioned the soft fabric between his fingers. The material grounded him, squeezed through his frosted veil like nothing was there. A red material traveled from his coat and glowed dimly in the light, as hard as it could. _

"_What's that?" Mike asked, peering closer._

_Raph frowned, his sore throat diminishing. "Splinter's robe."_


	54. Chapter 50 :: A Ruby Memory

_Synopsis: The brothers Hamato discussed serious matters over breakfast in a cafe. Raphael admitted his mistakes over the safe house and confronting Hunter Mason; Leonardo, undoubtedly concerned over their safety, lead his brothers on a trip outside the city._

* * *

Leonardo was surprised his brothers didn't complain about the cold weather, or why he led them to a secluded park deep from the city's hive. He heard a sniffle and a cough or two, but mostly silence. Good. Sometimes the unit needed discipline and taking orders without questions. He would never lead them somewhere dangerous, and if he did, they would be informed.

"Hey, Leo..." Mike's hoarse voice carried in the wind behind him; Leo almost missed it. "Where are we going?" He cleared his throat immediately and nuzzled under his scarf. A tinge of guilt hitting him now, Leo slowed and peered at his line of brothers: Mikey, followed by Don, and Raph a few steps behind them. They looked to him, their 'leader' with questions in their eyes but nothing more from their lips. He needed to answer; they deserved one.

Leo deeply inhaled and browsed at the glass trees and crinkly soil under his steel toe boots; carefully he began, "I meant what I said that we need to stick together, and not to just stay out of trouble or hide from anybody. It's time for a little walk." Mike's forehead wrinkled, and Raphael unloaded his swollen throat on ice. His brothers looked at him with light concern while he finished and then glared at them.

Intrigued, Donatello tilted his head, his black winter hat sliding in the other direction. "You mean that in a rhetorical sense, right? This hasn't been a little walk."

"I need to pee," Raph mumbled and eyed a random tree.

Don snapped, "Hold it in!"

"I've been doing that since we got off the bus!" Raph yelled at Don's back. "It's time to un-fuck yourself and get off my ass. I'm going."

Don didn't turn around, but his glare was hot enough to boil the back of Mike's squished head; he changed the subject before the ice melted under the heat. "Are you talking about another kind of walk?"

"In Leo's terms, he means-" Mike joked behind the scarf. Leo smiled at him. "-a spiritual walk."

"One of those!" came a bark behind a nearby tree. "Damn!"

* * *

Her fingers weren't numb from the weather but the friction scratching across her mind. Mei Chang, sitting alone in a dirty subway station and ignoring people's confused looks her way, gently pressed her hands into each other and closed her eyes. Her hunger pains were hard to ignore and a weaker body prolonged an easier spiritual journey. This was her only chance to connect with the Brothers Hamato, who moved too fast and wide in the metropolis. As they concentrated and entered the unknown realm, she too answered the call and glided from a tired physical into a fluctuating, dangerous universe.

A bleak moon pinned behind a thin, ruby fog and a dawn sky spread over a narrow, gray landscape soaked through her eyes the moment she opened them. She was intrigued by the strip of darkness across the edge and the chilly air between the spaces in her body, or where her mind was familiar with the spaces. In the realm, one relied on its emotions rather than sight; a troubled, vague feeling swept through her, and soon, as it passed, four silhouettes exposed from the darkness, the ruby misting from their eye sockets and mouths.

One shadow on her far right had more mist flowing from his mouth. She stepped closer to the group and watched the puffs flow again. As the air drew closer, she heard a tiny, inaudible voice. She waited for another response. Numerous mists from their direction surrounded her, and the voices grew louder; she could understand them now. "You're here!" "What's going on?" "Where the hell are we?" and finally, "We have questions to ask."

The shadows were just as broad and penetrating on closer inspection, and she wondered if they saw her the same way. Mei spoke, watching the red mist peel from her lips, "How do I look?" The vapor traveled quickly, and for a moment, nothing was coming out of their mouths. Were they slipping away from the realm?

A voice then returned hastily, "You look like a girl turtle who needs a bath. Who cares! Get to the point."

"Come closer. I see only shadows." She squinted and cocked her head to the left. They appeared bulkier, edging closer to her. Still, nothing. She shrugged at the attempt. "Never mind. I can't see you."

A blast of words flew at her, almost knocking her backwards and she grew a little weaker. Her body at the station was losing its grip. The shadow at the far right reached and caught her before she fell to the ground. His polished brown eyes sent into hers and was the only light on his dark face.

"Mei, it's me."

Stunned, she blinked and was brought to her feet. The voice was very familiar, so soft and precise. The memory returned to her immediately. "Donald!" she squealed, biting her lip and swaying back and forth. "It is good to see you again! In a way. Thank you for helping me."

Another wave full of laughter shoved her, and Donatello reached out his hands. He sighed, hissing back at the group, "Shut up! That's no way to treat a lady. Take notes, Raph, while you choke on your spit," as Raphael's mist staggered through the air; he gained composure again and waved off the two lovebirds.

Swept to her feet, Mei grabbed at the mist and inhaled its sudden humidity. The flow gave her much needed strength. "Laugh, talk, or be angry; it is welcomed in this place. We can feed off each other's energy."

"Yuck!" a small yelp from Mike twitched her cheeks.

"Thank you, Dommy," she bowed at Don and flashed her signature rosy smile. He excused the massacre of his name, losing himself for a moment. Leonardo gently pushed his quiet, blushing brother aside and faced Mei, taken back by her sudden intense stare his way. "You work hard in those eyes; sacrifice, virtue, compassion have rhythm and spell. You keep love close to you."

Not impressed by the takeover, Don rolled his eyes in the other direction and glared at Leo's head. Adjacent, Mike stood idly, and Raph yawned, coughing slightly from the tickle in his throat.

Leo began softly, "Mei, could we ask-"

She pointed to his left pocket, never looking down at it. "You brought something important and you will need for our union today. Please show us."

His brothers grouped in, Leo touched the insides of the pockets and cushioned the soft fabric between his fingers. The material grounded him, squeezed through his frosted veil like nothing was there. A red material traveled from his coat and glowed dimly in the light, as hard as it could.

"What's that?" Mike asked, peering closer.

Raph frowned, his sore throat subsiding. "Splinter's robe. The one he's worn forever. Why-" his last word a whisper, lost in a cardinal cloud. Leo clutched the sacred cloth, concerned it might disappear in the strange land. His brothers remained by his side, nostalgic.

Mei looked in the sky, curious by her companions' mist grouping and passing overhead. They followed her gaze and watched the formation. It winded to the east, gaining speed, contorting, and finally settled over a familiar rat sitting on a park bench with an ebony-haired young man. Nobody spoke; the silence consumed their inner voices, and every eye locked on the view in front of them. Were they seeing their father's past?

Clear mists hovered from Splinter and the man's mouths, deep in their private conversation. Their voices were quiet for a period but gradually came to a comfortable volume. They spoke in a foreign tongue and carried small smiles and nodded respectfully.

"This is England," the young man coaxed, stretching his arms through their mists and demonstrating the crowded street dotted with people in a variety of clothes from conservative business suits and the ladies strutting them with punchy shoulder pads, to colorful track suits, spicy leggings, and the younger pedestrians dressed mostly in black. Splinter's eyes were wide, diamond-like, soaking in the view. The man continued in a mild Japanese accent, "It is a country laced with beautiful history and strong people. I visited here before you were born, and I am happy to return."

Obediently, Splinter bowed and glued his attention on the man's hand. "I fear for our friends' safety in Japan, Master Yoshi. Why have our leaders turn to war and stain its country full of blood?"

Yoshi couldn't answer right away. He lowered his charcoal eyes and watched the wind blow Splinter's red robe in his direction. "We are safe here."

"I have always trusted you, Master."

"Please. I am your friend, Splinter."

"You were my master first, and I am strong because of you."

Yoshi nodded an acknowledgment; Splinter was a stubborn, fierce soul, and Yoshi had been trying for years to bring the young Rat to his level. They were best friends, brothers from childhood, when Yoshi was twelve and Splinter, shy and directionless, was eight. Their hands christened sweat, roped confidence and pride through rigorous stealth arts, and the two became inseparable.

"Master?" Splinter's quiet voice asked; a voice like crystal to Yoshi's ears and impossible to miss even if the world thundered its drums. "Are you troubled?" Splinter's words caressed into the wind and never found their way to Yoshi's ears; he was silent, hands and eyes steady. The young Splinter folded his hands and waited patiently for his Master's return. He drifted quite often but more frequently over the past few days. What bothered his Master, indeed?

The grey overcast brought chilly winds on the autumn day; the touch of air was dry and light, peppered with dancing leaves, landing soft on concrete, sidewalk, and shoulders of idle and rushed citizens. Enchanting, humble. The environment hummed behind the street noise, and it wrapped Yoshi in a strong embrace for long moments.

He came back, his eyes shaking again. "Dragons have invaded my dreams. They have never been a good omen in our family, you have known, and they are wasps on our soil." Splinter acknowledged, his fur tickled by the wind. Yoshi reclined with his stiff shoulders against the bench and hands across his lap. He said nothing more.

Splinter thoughtfully chose his next words. "It must burden you to have the nightmares in your eyes. May I help you?"

"Brother, you are too kind. It is my burden."

"Master-"

Yoshi finished with a sharp crack, "Mine alone. That is all." Splinter didn't open his mouth and sat stiffly in his spot. Yoshi knew he was a little too harsh, but he had to be because Splinter was stubborn and loyal to the end. Ironically, the undying loyalty grew jealousy in Yoshi's heart, for he could never aspire to be that strong. His temper sawed chips off bark and tossed fire into enemies, and regrettably, his allies. It was a daily struggle keeping anger at the bottom of the sea. Where Yoshi ended, Splinter began.

"Are you hungry?" Yoshi exhaled his last breath during the short meditation. He relaxed and felt his own hands ease their strong grip. "We passed a small bakery before sitting here. Would you like a sweet treat?"

"Yes," the quaint Rat smiled, waiting for his Master to rise. "You love the, what were they called? Pastries?"

"Close. Pasties, but pastries are delicious, too. You can choose anything."

Splinter, secretly excited for his treat, followed Yoshi a few steps down the block into a small corner store with bold white letters against a black background reading Fern's Bakery.

* * *

The quaint bakery sat tucked at the corner, attracting traffic from all sides, branding a conservative feel splashed mostly by its brown doors and frames, and showcasing breads and pastries through its large, clean window. Finding it hard to suppress his appetite, Splinter twitched his whiskers as they entered the business and a crest of the heavenly smell caressed his nostrils. His stomach pined for a chance to eat the savory goods. Always the observant one, he glossed over the scattered, petite circular tables lining a tight pathway to a glass counter holding more foods. His mouth watered and he almost felt embarrassed by it, but it was short lived; Splinter desired a warm piece of bread and tea. Instead, he watched a young cream-skinned girl sweeping around the tables and the tile floor.

Yoshi stopped in his tracks before stepping to the counter. Behind it, a plump lady dragonoid helped a nervous Bird girl, her sapphire shade of feathers standing on their ends. She was visibly stressed, and the dragonoid lady's vibrant red, curly hair danced on her head as she motioned her stout fingers over the keys. She looked up at her new customers, dismissing her coworker's short sighs. "Good day. What would you like to eat?" Her sharp voice flicked Splinter's ears, not from how she spoke, but from her powerful voice and accent that Splinter couldn't pinpoint. Yoshi was silent for a moment, and the lady blinked. "Do you need time to decide?"

"No," Yoshi dropped an octave. "Two loaves of bread and hot tea. That will be all," without turning to Splinter one time and forgetting about the pasties. He thought it good to ask later.

Bird girl dolloped over the register. "Two pounds." Her beak nearly creaked from smiling over conquering her technical adversary. "I did it, Fernanda!"

Fernanda's tight smile and nod was her only response. She cut her short stare from Yoshi's cold one, and served their food from a warmer in the back. The eager girl poured two cups of steaming tea and flashed a triumphant grin as she took Yoshi's notes and wished them a good day. Splinter gently brushed around Yoshi and levitated the tray, feeling the pinch of bad vibes between Yoshi and the counter. They had a seat farthest from the counter; Yoshi would have taken the far right corner seat but another patron occupied it.

Their meal eaten in silence, Splinter nibbled on his bread, unsure of what happened. It seemed his master didn't like the dragon lady, and as the warm tea rushed down his throat, the situation dawned on him; Splinter mentally hit himself over being clueless: Master's nightmares, fueled by his dragon hatred. It must disturb him so because Master would never treat a stranger disdainfully.

Splinter quietened his thoughts and finished the last drop of his tea.

Yoshi's hair on the back of his neck stood as high as the Bird girl's feathers. The nightmares returned in ribbons of the dragons' hold over elements of nature: icy fire, blazing water, earth in turmoil, wood's vines choking the throats of men, and the points of metal upsetting the balance of Life. His hands shook around the smooth cup, wiggling the tea inside, and it went cold before he could finish. He felt anxious and watched Splinter finish his meal. It was now time to go.

"I hope the meal was good," a light voice came from his right. He broke through his terrifying visions and peered into hazel eyes and a crooked, but friendly, smile. "I can take your tray for you." Her cream colored hands retrieved the empty cups and tray. Yoshi noticed her accent was similar as the dragonoid's.

"Where are you from?" Yoshi's inquiry alerted Splinter.

"My mum and I are from Germany, but we left when I was young. She's the tart lady behind the counter, teaching Halsey on the till and scaring her. And you?"

"Traveling from Japan. I am Hamato Yoshi, or-" he grinned, gave a swift look at Splinter, and turned back to the girl. "-Yoshi Hamato. This is my brother, Splinter."

"Hallo. I'm Emyrs Becker."

Yoshi nodded. "Emyrs. That is a unique name."

A cup slid off the tray, crashing violently on the floor, and she fumbled about, barely keeping the tray on the table. Her cheeks radiated and she stuttered a "Thank you" before trailing back to the counter and returning with a broom.

Yoshi and Splinter were a little clueless over the matter and helped picked up the pieces. "No, no!" she cried, almost sweeping up Yoshi's hand. "Sorry. Don't cut yourselves on my mistake. Here. Let me clean up." Her broom handle whacked Yoshi against the shoulder, and she stood back, watching Yoshi sit in his seat.

One of the pieces slid further away, under the corner table, and Splinter crawled after it. He stopped and noticed the patron in a hefty, torn black coat and a frizzy black scarf. Her chestnut pupils were captivating. Splinter rose to his feet and pointed at the floor. She pushed the rogue piece under the table and it stopped at Splinter's shoes.

"Thank you," he said, bending to pick it up.

Yoshi watched the conversation, and his nightmares flared again.

"What is your name?" she asked, resting her hands on her enlarged belly hidden under the table.

He watched her green face fall into a soft look, and he answered hesitantly, "Splinter."

"Hi. I am Mei Pieh Chi."

* * *

_Next chapter: The flashback answers a lot of the Turtles' and Mei's questions, but creates new ones before it ends abruptly._


	55. Chapter 51 :: Goodbye to Yesterday

_I'm truly sorry I'm so slow with updating this story. I know it holds a lot of information; that's why I hope the synopsis helps with refreshing your memory. I went through a writer's block, despite the outline to this story being complete, and it's been difficult for me to adapt to living in a new state. I'm slowly back on board. I'm a few chapters ahead and I plan on updating this at the first of every month. It's possible that in the future, I can update biweekly. For now, I hope this helps. Happy reading. –M_

* * *

_Synopsis: Leonardo led his brothers on a spiritual journey, where they ran into Mei Chang. Part of Splinter's robe in Leonardo's pocket allowed them to see Splinter's flashbacks in a crucial moment in his life—England, many years ago, with his Master and Brother Yoshi. They stopped in England on their trek across the world towards America and met a few interesting people, including Mei Pieh Chi, Emyrs, and Emyrs' mother, Fernanda. What is going on and why is this important for the Brothers to see?_

* * *

Leonardo placed his hand on Mei's quivering shoulder. "Stay with us," he urged, watching the flashback in front of them dim. Splinter appeared in his seat, evidence that his sons missed the little interaction he had with the Mei Chi in the vision.

"My body is draining," Mei Chang turned to them. "Maybe it will continue even without me here." She felt the grave of her stomach churn deep. The vision faltered, now showing Emyrs talking with the visitor. "Maybe not," she gasped, taking two steps back.

"Hang in there," Mike turned his head back and forth. "You can't leave now."

Raph helped keep her steady. "Are you Mei Pieh Chi, too? I'm getting confused. Too many Mei's."

"She's Mei Chang," Don said, extending his arms ready to catch the lady if she fell.

"Still confusing," Raph grumbled. He squinted at the vision. "I wish Emyrs wouldn't talk to strangers. Look at her. Gonna get herself in a lot of trouble."

Mei Chang gained a little life back in her. "Indeed, but she is talking to Mei Chi like she knows her."

Leo held his finger to his mouth, signaling silence. They regrouped and watched closely at the scene in front of them.

Emyrs swept a few pieces around Mei Chi's feet. She laughed, "What is with me and dropping things? Remember two days ago, my hands slipped on the stereo and it fell out my window?"

Mei Chi smiled at Splinter and Yoshi. "It fell on two city workers. They almost called the police, but Emyrs paid them in bread and milk."

"I have a bad habit of running my mouth." Emyrs walked to the nearest bin and dumped the broken pieces. They crackled hitting the bottom and she waited for the noise to die down before finishing, "Good thing I had Mei around to help me."

Yoshi watched how Mei Chi smiled and reacted calmly as Emyrs talked. The burning scars left from his nightmares flared the longer he and Splinter sat with the two. He was eager to leave, but Splinter was far too polite and couldn't abandon the conversation. "How long have you known each other?"

Mei Chi looked to Emyrs for an answer, who threw her eyes to the ceiling, counting to herself. "A week, maybe two? Right?" She met Mei Chi's glance who nodded one time at the response. Yoshi kept a cold stare in Mei's direction as Emyrs smiled telling her story. "Meeting another person like me sent me over the moon. She's been very courteous and helpful. Mother can be a little tough," she looked behind her hoping the coast was clear and shrugged her shoulders in relief, "and I don't have a lot of friends since I work here all the time and then I go home to…"

Emyrs' words faded to a hum for Yoshi. Mei Chi acknowledged his stare with a small smile. Her mouth didn't move as her voice whistled behind his eyes, "Delightful, is she not?" He was unsure if he should respond and encourage the strange conversation. "I am worried she is too close to me now."

"—I thought about going to bartender school, but I shake when I hold cups and I'm not good at talking to people who are sober, much less drunk," Emyrs leaned on her broom.

"You are doing fine with us here," Splinter grinned, twitching his whiskers. "If it is what you want to do, pursue it."

"Look up and smile!" chimed Halsey, igniting a flash across everyone's stunned faces. She giggled and snatched the picture spewing from the camera. "This will be a great shot. Nobody ever smiles for me," she pouted, shaking the picture. Behind the counter, Fernanda lassoed a whistle at Halsey and motioned for her return. "She never lets me have any fun," Halsey mumbled and handed the picture to Emyrs before dashing away.

Emyrs smiled and nodded, regaining her balance and sight and sneaking a quick peek at the photo, waiting for it to dry. The air grew a little cold among them as silence prevailed. A small shake from Mei Chi's table prompted everyone to look in her direction. She stood to leave. "It has been nice meeting you," she said through grunted breath, and Yoshi could see why: under her clothes, she carried something big around her belly region.

"Do you need help?" Emyrs reached for her, but Mei Chi held up her hand in polite protest.

"I am familiar with these small joys of motherhood," she chuckled, using the table as leverage. "This part of the journey will be over soon."

Splinter and Emyrs finished their goodbyes; Yoshi moved the heavy weight off his lap and felt better the further Mei Chi moved from them. He looked down at Splinter for the first time since the meeting, and the stress melted seeing his familiar, kind face. He couldn't stay angry for very long. "Thank you for the delicious meal and company, Emyrs," he and Splinter bowed. She sparkled and returned the gesture. A cry from the back of store sent her hurling in its general direction. Two male customers rung the front door bell, and Yoshi was thankful for the chance to finally leave the turbulent feelings in the store where it needed to stay.

Again hesitant to say anything, Splinter followed behind his brother and reveled in the cool air blowing across his face.

* * *

Several hours passed under a teetering, bashful sun. While Yoshi attended to business nearby, Splinter found peace in the shade, watching humans and Nons alike, unaware of his presence and keen eye. He used the time focusing on the future instead of the past. He and Yoshi were headed for America soon, and something in his heart wrote happiness on its walls. Something big and challenging lied ahead for the both of them. Although much of his life he was quite content with, he yearned for the next step. Wherever he'd go, he hoped Yoshi would be there with him.

His keen ears caught a fuss in the distance. He knew it impolite to brown-nose, but the voices were familiar. Two ladies argued in front of a parked bus; one was crying and begging, and the other remained straight face and determined: Emyrs and her mother.

"I can make it here. I promise to work harder!"

"It is best if you go. The war will be here soon, and you'll be safer back home. Dry your face and go. You're making a scene."

"Mother, please…." Emyrs dropped her suitcase and stood rigid in her spot. Wary onlookers walked around them; some boarded the bus, giving furrowed brows to the other passengers. Splinter noticed Yoshi dissolving out of the crowd and paying no attention to the fuss. He gracefully approached with two tickets in his hand.

"We will visit the Moors in the southwest. It is peaceful and our last stop before going to America. You will like it, brother." Yoshi reached for his bag and helped Splinter to his feet. "That is our bus behind us. Our journey is a short one."

The closer they approached the bus, the more quiet Emyrs and her mother became. It was down to sniffles and hugs. Yoshi and Splinter boarded, patiently waiting behind other passengers and then taking their seats in the middle of the bus. Splinter took the window seat and watched Emyrs grab her suitcase, giving her mother a longing, desperate look hoping for a change of her mother's heart, but was disappointed and was the last passenger in line.

"I hope the sun shines on you," her mother said and walked the other direction. Splinter wondered why the mother didn't wait until the bus left. He lowered his head away from the window, crossed his hands, and meditated for their continued safety on the journey. Yoshi silently joined him just as Splinter finished.

Flushed and embarrassed, Emyrs slid in the seat in front of Splinter and scooted as close to the window as she could. She sniffed and kept focus on her lap, never once peering out the window as the bus throated hard and eased from the side walk, the trees and buildings growing smaller and fading from view. The shy Splinter passed the time wondering what kind of music the people on the street were listening to on their walkmans, their different jobs, their families, and the other passengers' destinations. The two elder gentlemen seated across the aisle seemed like they had been traveling a long way too, judging from their thin clothes and stoic faces. The same face Yoshi wore. Was his soul too soft for such an arduous life transformation? On their trek so far, Yoshi had been the one handling decisions and arranging accommodations. Perhaps it was time for Splinter to place a confident step forward.

Emyrs' faded yellow, flower patterned head cloth shook from the bus galloping over bumps and finding every pothole in the road. She still hadn't looked up. Splinter leaned over, feeling his voice cascading over tension. "Hello, Emyrs."

She turned, peeking over her right shoulder with scorched eyes and softened after seeing who it was. "Hello," she cleared her throat. "Where are you going?"

"Have you ever been to the Moors in the southwest?"

"No."

"It will be the first time I lay eyes on its beauty. Where are you going?"

"Germany, where I was born. I don't want to go back, sad to say. Does that make me a bad person? My relatives there have always been nice, but I'd rather be in England."

"Germany was beautiful. The people were admirable."

She patted a handkerchief on her forehead and cheeks. "Yeah, they are."

He almost spoke again, ready to assure her she would be okay through adversity, but she continued, "I've never done this. Traveling by myself. I know I'll get lost and will accept help from anyone, probably someone dangerous. Too naïve and stupid."

"Your mother has the best intentions for you. Keep your eyes and ears sharp, and obey your gut instincts. People will not disappoint you."

She coughed, a little laugh escaping through, "I'm pretty disappointed in my mother. I'm not some animal to toss around. I'm a grown woman and able to ride a war beside my mother like anybody else."

Splinter edged a look at Yoshi, who kept his attention straight ahead, although Splinter was sure he could hear the conversation. He didn't have any wise or comforting words to say to a lady with a broken heart. Instead, he was thankful for the chance to be with his brother and wished everyone could feel the joy he felt. He said to her, "You are a very hard worker and I know you will come back to her someday. Do not lose hope. You will indeed hug her shoulders and kiss her face again." He relaxed against his seat. Emyrs diverted her attention back to her hands and said no more to him.

Yoshi's mind found serenity, fixed between feeling the earth beneath his feet in a few hours and, soon, the grand ocean in their wake with a new life waiting behind it. In a sense, their life had already begun; two companions in the other's shadow with enough strength to be independent and enough heart to embrace the other.

The peace didn't last as long as he wished. Behind his eyes, once again, a pretty voice chimed, "You should get off this bus." His chest percolated over the sound of her ill-fated ring. "I have made a horrible mistake." He didn't give her the opportunity to face him. She was behind him somewhere, staring at the back of his head. "I have been running and cannot escape this time. He has come for me and the child."

What business of it was his? Yoshi continued paying no mind to the worrisome lady. She could talk all day and he wouldn't answer.

Her demeanor switched sides, "You will not make it to the Moors or the ocean. Your brother will be alone and frightened."

He felt a brush against his shoulder, and Splinter's dark eyes were staring through him. The way she just spoke to him blew a cold wind through his nostrils and chilled the warmth in his chest. Even seeing Splinter's docile face couldn't calm him. The witch was relentless. She finally crossed the line.

Splinter's eyes grew the largest he'd ever seen, and the weight of a monster crushed against his back. Splinter disappeared, and the floor of the bus turned into the ceiling. Bodies ricocheted on the walls and smashed into each other. The shrieks and wails happened for only seconds until everything surrounding him fell still and silent. Now, this fraction of new serenity scared the hell out of him.

The Hamatos opened their eyes back to the frost and heavy air of the forested region. As silent as Yoshi's world became, so theirs was too. They didn't know where Mei Chang went and were desperate to know what happened. Don and Raph pushed on their feet, stretching and rubbing their shoulders and arms. Leo squeezed a hand over Mike's shoulder, watching his brother's solemn face. Leo had a feeling this journey would rekindle their faith and strength in each other. It was proven as Raph and Don huddled next to the two of them and each laid a hand on Mike.

* * *

Preview of next chapter:

_April's red hair made it easy to spot her. She stood in front of a vending machine in the break room, deciding over the meager selection of salt and sweet chips, crackers, and candy bars. _

_ "Morning again," Don kept his voice low. She bent to pick up her food dropping out of the box and turned her head. She glowed, and he smiled. "I'm sorry about Raph, and I shouldn't have left you."_


	56. Chapter 52 :: Soft Storm

_Synopsis: The spiritual journey with Mei Chang ended, with the Brothers witnessing what was supposed to be a quiet, normal trip for Splinter and Yoshi that turned into a possible tragedy. They weren't able to see what happened after the bus crash; Mei Chang disappeared, but they were left with another powerful reason to strengthen their family ties._

* * *

With delicate hands touching his shoulders, April kissed Casey's forehead, smiling at his drowsy expression. His eyes glossed over, he gave her his signature hammy grin, spelling out the signs of a day gone in his favor. She flapped the bed spread over his chest, letting the cool air brush his chin.

"Tough dreams," she grinned back at him, remembering how his face always scrunched if someone said 'sweet dreams'. She was positive his dreams were him roaming the streets in search of damsels in distress or heads to crush. Those were 'sweet' to him, and it tickled her all the time.

He responded with a slow nod and a garbled babble, a definite sign it was time for her to leave. She stood in peace for a moment, peering about the room and down at their slumbering daughter on the foldout bed. Two hours ago, April tried giving Shadow to Irma for the day, but enough protesting shrills sent the baby back to her daddy's arms. April gave up and said goodbye to Irma, who left pouting a little, looking forward to Shadow's playtime with Josh.

Snuggling beside Shadow, April didn't even get comfortable before she felt the cold breeze and light sipping through the window. There stood four bulky forms, peering into her face with equally troubling and fierce eyes. "Holy shit," she whistled, "you guys haven't done that in ages! Close the window, please. It's already cold enough in here."

Who she assumed to be Donatello gently swished the window shut, and Mike's familiar sweet voice mumbled an apology. She sat up, cautiously looking back to see if two baby eyes were staring back at her. "Visiting hours haven't begun, you know."

"Yeah, that's why we sneaked through the window," Raph scoffed. "Lamebrain over here snoozing, I see. Hey-" he patted Casey's feet, "wake up. Housekeeping."

"Raph, stop that. They just gave him medicine," she waved her hand, hoping it would get him to stop. He popped Casey's feet one good time and threw his hands back in his coat.

Leonardo thumped his elbow against Raph's arm. "We're sorry, April. Raph really wanted to see him."

"Where have you been?" She glared at a sheepish Raph, already feeling her heat in the room.

"I'm here now. That's all that matters."

"Yeah, I guess so," she said and felt a stir beside her. Oh great. Then, a string of unintelligible words spewed from Casey's direction. She sighed. Lost battle.

"Hey, champ. You really showed those wenches who's boss," Raph stepped to Casey's bedside. He chuckled looking at Casey's vacant expression. "You're man enough to get out of this place soon. Stop being a wuss. I have battle scars, too."

"Try getting your fingers lopped off," Don dryly commented from the corner, taking his seat in a chair.

"Ah, big baby. I got knifed too." Raph tapped Casey's shoulder. He responded with a goofy grin.

"Waph, you'll wa—" Casey muttered, "—Swadow." One cue, the baby whimpered and, upon seeing the bulky strange men suddenly in the room, she cried.

"Now, now," April scooped her in her arms. "It's just the Uncles."

Leonardo walked passed Raph and flicked on the light. Mike kneeled down in front of Shadow and caressed her hands. "It's me, Uncle Mike. How are ya?" Shadow calmed, leaning her head into her mother's neck and nibbling on her own finger. While Mike playfully swung her free arm back and forth, April and Don crossed looks, smiled at the other, and Don turned away.

Mike sparked a smile at Shadow. "Uncle Raphie's sorry for scaring you and smelling like one of your diapers."

Everybody but Raph was amused, scattering light chuckles around the room. Casey held up his bandaged hand like a trophy to show. Raph shared in the moment and gave a fist bump against Casey's hand. "That's my champ. Ain't nobody gonna keep you down."

"You stink," Casey said clear enough for everyone to understand.

Raph nodded. "Yeah, yeah. It's been a long week. Isn't it time for your sponge bath too, sweetheart?"

Shadow opened her arms and reached for Mike to hold her. April stood to her feet and rubbed Casey's arm from her side of the bed. "Casey said he wants to go fishing and buy Shadow a pink princess—" she stumbled through tired words, "princess pole. I think he's confused it's still winter and not spring."

"I'll go fishing with them," Leonardo quietly said, walking to the foot of the bed. "It'll be fun. I haven't done it in a long time."

Mike and Shadow played with her toes on the cot. "Make sure the fishies don't bite your toes," he cooed, and she giggled over his fingers grabbing her legs. "Those snapping turtles are rough. Watch out!"

The precious cries from her daughter warranted more friendly reactions from the room. April was exhausted, barely keeping her eyes open, but the joy of seeing her family together fought against the need for privacy. Casey dozing off again, she watched Raph stare at his vital signs, giving it his okay after everything looked fine on the monitors and looking back at his brothers halfheartedly. She wondered why in the world had he disappeared; had someone been in danger and needed rescuing? It was the only reason she could think of why he would vanish. Or….

"Are you seeing someone, Raph?" Never feeling restricted when confronting the brothers, April threw a sideways glance in his direction without blinking. Raph was speechless, and his face sizzled from the embarrassment.

"You could say that," Don quipped, leaning on his left elbow and grinning like a mad cat. "He set a building on fire for one."

April went ballistic, in a silent form of jaw dropping and eyes like clouds. She almost fell on Casey.

"He did not," Mike chimed, rubbing Shadow's bedhead. "Not really."

"Leo?" April squeaked, hoping to get some confirmation or retaliation against Raph's judgment. "Did he?"

Leonardo sighed, glaring at Don out of the corner of his eye. "No, April. No."

"I heard about a building on fire down on 8th. Was that you?" she fired her finger at the perpetrator. "Oh god, I hope that wasn't you."

"Yeah, I mean, no, but it's a—"

"Was anybody killed?"

"Sort of." Raph peered at his feet.

She reached over and covered Shadow's ear. "What, you mean, like a torso, half a leg, or a head then? What do you mean by 'sort of'?"

"Dammit, I'm tired!" Raph paid back her glare; she shrunk in her seat. "I've had everyone crawling up my shell. I'm outta here." He marched to the window and vanished into the wind. Leonardo apologized on his behalf and dashed after him. By the time April could form a word, Mike kissed Shadow's head and handed her back to her mother. Don was right behind Mike, brazing a sympathetic look.

"Meet me down in the lobby," he said and leaving behind the sound of his boots cracking the sill. The silence wasn't long kept as a nurse strolled into the room and quickly gave a check over Casey, whispering a salutation and clearing before, again, she could utter a word. Shadow dozed off, and April set her on the cot, pulling a blanket over the child. She closed the window and waited for the heat to spread in the room. This time, the quiet haunted her, and a tear slipped out of her eye before she caught it.

* * *

"You should go back and apologize," Mike whipped at Raph, who led the group through the back way of the hospital. No answer followed. "She didn't do anything to you. Why do you have to push away the people that love you?"

Raph barked over his shoulder. "Like you didn't, Mister Pot? Shut up at me."

"Guys, wait until we get home." Leonardo stood between the two, watching for people coming from the street. "It's not a good time right now."

Mike's scarf fell into his mouth and he shoved it down. "I guess you're one of those people who think depression is all in the head. I needed space, and you kept invading it."

The last one in line, Don poked at Mike's back. "It technically is all in your head."

"I mean like I fake it."

"I know what you mean. I was just throwing in a little humor—"

"He has it, too," Mike tightened the scarf around his neck. "We all probably have it. We just deal with it in different ways." He tucked the cloth over his beak and didn't snap back when Raph snorted.

Don stopped walking and raised his voice as his brothers kept going. "I'll catch up later." Leonardo and Mike hung back.

"Are you sure?" Leonardo's breath cut the air.

"I want to pick up a coffee and, uh, a muffin." He nodded, "I'll be fine. See you soon." He turned, not waiting for a response and retraced his footsteps to the hospital.

Truth be told, his appetite was nonexistent. He could go for coffee, but the taste for it already soured his tongue. He wanted to see April; he meant to compliment her new hair color and how her cheeks were rosy, up to the point before Raph talked out of his ass. Being on good terms with her again was all he wanted to ask. His head was clearer; ironic that a trip back to the past helped with it, and no longer did he feel jealous or frustrated. For years, he wondered if it was a crush or puppy love, but no. He respected and loved her for being the bravest woman he ever met and taking in four adolescent, wandering boys who happened to be a little left from the center.

He passed a man and woman smoking on the sidewalk, blowing their hot breath into the thin air, and giving him a wild look as he stepped through the automatic doors. A family of humans was in front of him and stepped through the metal detector without a hitch, nodding at the two security guards before the second pair of doors closed. The guards grew taller on their planted feet and walked closer to Don, their hard eyes brushing over his baggy, unkempt clothes and intentions anything less than cautious and alert. They patted him down, and he bit his lower lip, feeling the blood rushing to his face the more their hands moved. Pathetic but typical, he knew. They gave permission for him to enter, but not without glaring more holes in his head. He ignored them and left the stupidity at their desk.

April's red hair made it easy to spot her. She stood in front of a vending machine in the break room, deciding over the meager selection of salt and sweet chips, crackers, and candy bars.

"Morning again," Don kept his voice low. She bent to pick up her food dropping out of the box and turned her head. She glowed, and he smiled. "I'm sorry about Raph, and I shouldn't have left you."

April broke open the bag, tearing into the food with a bear grip. "It bothered me a little. Raph doesn't seem to care who he hurts, huh? I mean, it was there when he was younger, but he fought against it. Now he's just—"

"He does care, but he's too busy setting things on fire and chasing ghosts. He also has the weirdest taste in women."

She chuckled and offered him the bag; he declined, holding up his hand. "Hey, he used to crush on me. Am I weird?"

"You were awkward at first," his smile brightened as he took a short glance out the large bay of windows, "but you warmed up. He scares people, even if he doesn't mean to, so I understand."

"Sorry. I'm so ravenous." She leaned her head back and finished the last of the crumbs.

He peered back at her. "Is that all you had for breakfast?"

"I'm broke until Friday," she said, wiping her hands against her legs and slapping off loose bits on her coat. "Chips filled me up."

Don patted his back pocket, feeling for his wallet and remembered he had a twenty. It was intended for his savings fund. "I've got a few dollars. Let's go."

"No, you already have a tough time—"

"Don't sweat it, really. Wouldn't you like some ham and bacon? Barbeque chips and stale coffee won't cut it. I feel like a muffin."

She acted bashful, standing in line with him in the cafeteria and putting very few items on her plate. When she wasn't looking, he added several pieces of bacon and three biscuits. She didn't notice until they were at the register.

"Where did this stuff come from? Did you put this on my plate?"

"The Breakfast Fairy says you need to eat," he heard the human cashier ring up their orders; he pulled out the money and concealed it so April wouldn't notice the now empty wallet. "Thank you," he whispered to the cashier who kept a straight face and waited for the next customer.

"She was friendly," April snapped, following him down a small flight of stairs and letting him choose a quaint table on the far back wall. "Thank you, Don. I should take some of this to Irma when she comes back."

"Eat," he ordered and picked off the flakes on his muffin.

That she did, and she ate faster as the time passed. How long had she been surviving on vending machine nutrition, and why hadn't he been there for her? His appetite disappeared again as he laid his half-eaten blueberry muffin on the tray. There was no need to be shy around his friend anymore. She was the best person to talk to, and apologize for his ugly behavior.

A flake sprinkled on the table. "We were trained to be warriors, battling ghastly creatures and humans off their rockers. We were prepared for that. Splinter taught us with a sharp stick and soft tongue. Could he have taught us about this life? I don't think so."

He could tell she was confused yet sympathy beamed from her eyes. It was the one time she didn't have a warm or cheeky response. The rest of the flakes found themselves bundled in a napkin as he continued, "I don't blame our Father, that's not what I'm trying to get at. I think all the time. It drives me a little bonkers. I hope you will forgive me for not knowing how to be a good friend. I don't blame anything on you either. Life moved too fast for me to catch up. I know Mike has his fair share of problems and he didn't handle this situation well. Leo seems adjusted, if a little brick and Raph actually did better than I expected, for a short time anyways. But I've come to the conclusion that I was the last one to accept this world and adapt. I was okay as long as the others were around and I had goals and direction. When Leo and I hunted for those girls, I felt the most comfortable I had in months. I miss it, April, and I miss you."

She chewed half of the bacon in her hands, placed it back on her tray, and rested her elbows on the table. "I miss you too. I miss all of you. I feel like we're distant relatives now, like you've moved away but you haven't."

"I feel a big change on the horizon. It's been slowly growing and now I think it's a calm before the storm. Promise me you'll stay safe."

"Okay, Donny, I promise, but," one of her elbows slipped off the table as concern grew, "do you know more than you're telling me?"

He laid the muffin on her tray, scooting the nibbled bacon beside the egg yolk. "I don't know any more than you do. Just keep Casey and Shadow safe. This family has already seen enough damage."

Instead of pressing the issue, she lifted from her seat, walked around the table, and embraced Don in a hold worth a tale. He was rigid at first but adapted, the way he should handle all of his problems.

She patted him on the shell and kissed the top of his head. "Your safety is important to me, too. Go home to your father and brothers. They need you."

He returned her somber expression for a moment and then needed to break away. She finished her meal, gave him another bear hug, and walked with him to the lobby. They knew he needed to get home, and it was a tender affair saying goodbye as he walked through the double doors, back into new footprints in the snow. He carried on their conversation in his head, analyzing every word he said and if what he said was what he meant. Had his words come straight from his gut? Was it exactly what he wanted to say to her?

He waited for the green signal to walk across one of the few streets he needed to find a discreet manhole. The journey took longer than he expected, but he whipped around corners and left shops and heavy traffic behind him, their noises a small toss against buildings shrouded from view. Before he exercised every muscle in his arm to lift a cover napping under shadow, a small figure across the fence caught his attention. He squinted as the figure approached the fence, and before it touched the chain, he saw the person looking down at him with tired but graceful blue eyes.

"How are you, Mei Chang?" he asked, lifting to his feet and walking closer to the fence. "I didn't know if I would see you again."

She sighed, "You can only push your body so far."

"How about I invite you to our home and you can rest there? All of us scattering and being distant is slowing things down. I'm not sure what's going on, but I see you and you see me. We're here, and not in some hazardous dream scape."

Her hands slid down the fence and she nodded, "I am near my goal, and I cannot stop. We will have time to visit each other in the future. I wanted to see you and your brothers again before Mei Chi made her next move."

"Good luck catching me and my brothers together these days."

They fell quiet as Mei stared into Don, and it made him a little nervous. He said, "I hope you find what you're looking for. I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about her next move. That could mean one of my brothers, or all of us."

"She strikes like a soft storm on the beach. She breathes and waits."

He didn't mean to chuckle at the statement. "Like a whirlpool instead of a hurricane?"

"More like the moon and its tides."

"Is the moon full now?"

"It is getting there."

He peered over her dirty face and wondered how she would solve this problem being in such a fragile state. If only she would follow him home and get some food, rest. She looked pitiful and sad, not at all the strong woman when they first met. He wasn't sure if he was the one to help her.

He had been looking behind him for roamers, and when he turned back to Mei, she was walking back up the alley. It was best to let her go. The manhole cover wasn't going to open itself; he peered around a final time and shunted it over his head, jumping into the darkness.

* * *

Preview of the next chapter:

_Emyrs handed Red his jacket. "Don't forget me."_

"_Hell no!" Red scooped her in his frail arms and latched them around her shell. "I'm finding you when I get older. You better live in the same house or I won't be able to find you. I'm not good with directions."_

"_Red?" Shannon crossed her arms._

"_Yes?" He mumbled into Emyrs' clothes._

"_Which flavor soap do you want? Cherry or vanilla? I have green tea, but that tastes awful."_

_He pouted and looked to Emyrs for a rescue. "I guess I'll take vanilla," he warbled._


End file.
